The Possibility of Friendship
by Jeanny
Summary: A young Watcher learns of a prophecy involving all of the Scoobies, and needs the help of Spike. (takes place after Crush) *COMPLETE*
1. Lydia Gets Cryptic

Title: The Possibility of Friendship

Author: Jeanny

Parts: 17

Summary: A young Watcher learns of a prophecy involving all of the Scoobies, and needs the help of the vampire least likely to give it - Spike.

Spoilers: Season 5 through The Body

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please! jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: Go ahead, I don't mind, just credit me and tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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From beneath her sensible black umbrella, Lydia Stokes-Martin found herself looking askance at the sky once again. *Of course, it's raining. I seem to have brought London's weather with me. But not the blessing of the Council.* That thought brought to mind the final argument she had had with Quentin Travers, the one in which he had in no uncertain terms forbidden her to return to this place. The knowledge that what she had done in the last twenty hours, that what she was about to do now, could potentially destroy everything she had worked so hard for her entire life made her knees weak. Indeed, generations of Stokes-Martins, faithful Watchers all, were no doubt turning in their graves back in London this very instant. *Ironic that I am where I am, then,* she mused, turning up the collar on her coat against a sudden chill. Her hands then automatically went to the overnight bag she had so carefully packed. *Still dry as a bone.* She noticed absently that her hands were shaking. *I need to get on. This is not going to get easier by waiting.* With that thought her feet finally propelled her forward until she was standing at the door.

"Do I knock?" she murmured out loud. "Does one need to be polite under the circumstances?" Despite her years of training, she found herself oddly unprepared for the encounter she was about to have. She reached tentatively for the door.

"Hello, luv. Come to visit?" Lydia whirled and pressed her back against the door, her heart racing, and found herself nose to nose with the man that she sought. Piercing blue eyes met softer ones, and she felt her face flush as she dropped her gaze. The hand that had been on the door started to slowly slip into the pocket of her coat. The holy water and cross were there, inches away. A strong grip suddenly tugged her hand up, and she looked up at him, surprised. "Tsk, tsk, ducks. Don't be naughty." Lost in his gaze once again, she merely blinked at him. "Lost the power to speak, then? Nice to know I can still have that effect on some women." The bitterness in his voice finally managed to break the paralysis of her vocal chords, but the first thing that came out of her mouth was -

" I need your help." *No, no, no,* she berated herself. *Not like that, I'll be done before I've had a chance!* "William...Spike...may I come in?" Expressions flickered across his features so quickly that she was sure she hadn't caught them all. Annoyance, curiosity, anger, amusement, and a strange sort of loneliness. He said nothing, just shrugged and let himself inside. Closing the umbrella, she followed, deliberately leaving the door open behind her. *I know he's supposed to be harmless, but better safe than sorry.* He took a seat in the only chair and stared at a beaten up television that he hadn't bothered to turn on. Again, Lydia was uncertain how to proceed. After a few moments of tense silence, he sighed heavily.

"Go on. Speak your peace. You're dripping on my floor." She looked at the puddle being made by her sopping wet umbrella, and flushed once again. The voice of her mother unexpectedly echoed in her head. *Now is the time, Lydia. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and have to. Make Mummy proud.*

"I've come because we--that is, the Council of Watchers--have uncovered a prophecy-" Lydia knew that vampires could move fast, but she'd never actually seen one in action before. She barely had time to register that he was wearing his vampire countenance when she was lifted into the air and thrust into the doorway. The umbrella flew from her hand and clattered to the floor. "Wait!" she squeaked, grabbing onto the doorframe with a death grip.

"I've heard enough. Bleedin' prophecies, that's Slayer's business, you should take it up with her. I want no part of it. She wants no part of me." Again that strange look of pained melancholy passed over his face, and she shook her head vigorously.

"No, please, you don't understand. The Slayer cannot know about this! No one can! But the fate of-"

"-the world? Do you think I care about the fate of the world?" He gave a quick bitter laugh and released his grip on her, turning around so his back was to her. Almost immediately he turned back to face her, his handsome features restored. He reached up ran both hands through his cropped blonde hair in frustration. "There's no point in having this world, not to me anyway. I've lost everything, don't you see?" His voice shook with sudden rage. "Why are YOU even HERE?"

"I was going to say the fate of the girl is at stake." Lydia's quiet statement silenced him. He regarded her for a long moment, before stepping aside to allow her to enter further. She barely registered that he had this time closed the door behind her. "As I was saying, we have uncovered a very unusual prophecy involving the current Slayer, one that indicates a crisis about to take place. If these events are allowed to continue as foreseen, the Slayer will be seriously weakened, perhaps even destroyed." 

He paced back and forth for a minute, absorbing her words. Lydia could tell that he was working out something in his mind. The problem was, she had no idea what it might be. He stopped and turned to her with a cunning smile. 

"Why come to me, pet? Was there something in your 'thesis' that indicated that William the Bloody would want to save a Slayer?" He approached her slowly, moving as gracefully as a jungle cat. He looked wild, dangerous, and downright sexy. A sound, half-squeak, half-sigh, escaped her before she could stop it. Her paralysis was utter and complete, and she made no other sound as he grabbed hold of her arms once again. Though the strong grip caused her no pain, it brought her much closer to his cold hypnotic eyes and derisive smirk. "I believe I was the cause of the death of two of them, isn't that right?" The grip suddenly tightened, but before Lydia could register the pain, he abruptly let go of her and turned away, doubled over, gripping his head. "Bloody hell! I wasn't trying to hurt her!" Lydia found her voice suddenly restored.

"But you said you worked for her. And I got the impression that...well...that you cared about her. Somewhat," she added nervously as his furious and still pained glare met hers. His mouth worked for a second, a vehement protest forming. Then, to her surprise, he simply deflated.

"I think you could say that I care about her...somewhat," he conceded gruffly, returning to the chair and sitting heavily. "Why does that matter? What's this all about?" Lydia responded by placing her small overnight bag on top of the tomb and unzipping it. She pulled out a manuscript that was obviously incredibly ancient. It was not a text he recognized, but Spike could sense the powerful magic emanating from it.

"This manuscript was discovered in Santiago, Chile in 1909. It has no given name, so the Council refers to it as the Santiago Codex. Contained inside it are a number of incredibly powerful spells, some prophecies, and most importantly, some counter-spells and counter-prophecies. It was in this text that I found the prophecy I was telling you of. I also found a way to divert it." Spike shook his head, still not understanding.

"So you've found the loophole. Goody for you, run right over and tell the Slayer. I'm sure the Watcher will give you a lollipop. Why come to me?" Lydia sighed, and her shoulders drooped.

"Two reasons. The manuscript makes it clear that this is not something that the Slayer can fight. If Buffy finds out about the prophecy, there will be no way to stop it. The other reason is--is that the Watcher's Council has decided not to intervene."

"They decided what?" Spike eyed her incredulously, then shook his head. "Going to leave their Slayer out to dry, are they? That's lovely. Lovely bunch you're with, pet." Lydia found herself unable to meet his gaze until he continued softly. "But you came anyway, didn't you luv? Got yourself in a bit of a mess. Got the Slayer in a bit of a mess, too. Need old Spike to help you fix it all up, make it better." 

Their gazes locked once more, hers pleading, his pained but softening. Finally he gave one abrupt nod.

"All right then. Let's get on with it. Tell me what needs to be done to save our heroine from the new big bad evil and a certain death, so that I can get to it. I don't want to miss Passions tomorrow for this." Lydia almost smiled, but her expression became solemn almost immediately.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've not been clear. It's not Buffy I need you to save." Spike glared at her, shocked.

"You don't--then what--"

"I need you to save her friends."


	2. Lydia Tells A Story

Joss & Co. own all these characters. I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes, because I am very, very evil :)

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Spike stared at Lydia speechless for a moment, then burst into laughter. She watched him silently, putting the Santiago Codex down and biting her bottom lip in vexation. *I may have lost him now. I must convince him that Buffy Summers is doomed unless I have his help.* Finally his laughter calmed enough that he was able to speak again.

"You want me to save the Scooby Gang? You must be daft." Lydia impulsively reached for his hand. Their gazes locked yet again, her growing desperation meeting his cool amusement. 

"Please, just let me explain the prophecy and the counter-prophecy, and tell you what you would need to do. Then decide if you will help or not. That is all I ask." After a long moment, he gave a curt nod, and she released both his hand and the breath she had not realized she was holding. She again lift the manuscript, turning slightly away. She was only vaguely aware of his movements as she rapidly skimmed and flipped pages.

"Let me read you the part of the prophecy--oh, I really should have bookmarked the passage back in London--well, there wasn't enough time--anyway, there are still a few things that I am not yet--oh, wait, there, yes, here it is--oh my!" Lydia looked up and gasped as she saw that Spike had removed his t-shirt and was now barechested, toweling himself off with a black towel and looking at her expectantly. *I hadn't even realized he was wet, though of course, with the weather.* She could feel the heat of the blush creeping across her face, and buried her head back in the text in her now unsteady hands. "Y-y-yes, well, as I was saying, here is the passage that details the prophecy. It refers to the Slayer, and to seven `Followers' of the Slayer. At least, that was how we had originally translated it, but I believe that `Friends' is a better rendering." As Lydia watched surreptitiously over the book, Spike nonchalantly tossed the towel on the back of the chair and sat, stretching his legs. 

"Makes her sound like Snow White and the bleedin' dwarves," he snorted. "So go on, pet, tell me a story. It is all cryptic and rhyming and such? Most prophecies are, give me a bloody headache."

"Yes, well, some of it is a bit obscure. And I'm afraid Aldric, who did the main translation, does have something of a fixation with rhyming. No matter. I have a sense of the identity of most of the `Friends', but it would be helpful if you concurred. You do know Buffy and the others, much better than I do." Spike made a gesture that indicated she should hurry.

"Fine, luv. Get on with it." Lydia looked at the passage, cleared her throat once, and began to read:

"A Slayer who from death restored

Though cheated Fate did cut her cord

Fate demands she pay the cost

Seven souls for one Death lost 

Seven Friends will pay the price

Seven Friends, Fate's sacrifice

One not a father, but her his daughter

One who as a demon slaughtered

One witch of fire, one of earth

One a sister, not of birth

One a jester, her soul's brother

One who loves her like no other

Seven Friends do her surround

All at once they are struck down

Slayer cannot fight this death

Naturally they lose their breath

Sorrow then her only friend

Slayer surely meets her end"

Lydia stopped and looked at Spike. His eyes were closed, and for a second she thought he might have gone to sleep. Annoyance flared, then vanished as he broke the silence with an unneeded exhalation of breath.

"Well then, `One not a father, but her his daughter' - that would be the Watcher, Rupert." 

"Yes, that is what I thought as well. `One who as a demon slaughtered?'"

"That must be Junior's girl, Anya. Works at the shop, used to be Anyanka, patron of scorned women. Piece of work."

"The vengeance demon. I remember. Now `One witch of fire, one of earth'-"

"-would be the lover-wiccas," Spike finished matter-of-factly. Lydia looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, then grew flustered yet again.

"Q-quite. Willow and T-Tara. Yes, that is what I thought. I`ve not been able to figure the next, `One a sister, not of birth.'"

"Oh, that's the Nibblet." Off her blank look, he added. "Dawn. Slayer's sister."

"But that doesn't make sense, she is her birth-sister, is she not?" Spike opened his mouth to correct her, then changed his mind and shrugged instead.

"You asked for my opinion, I told you it means Dawn. The next is obviously the whelp. Boy thinks he's funny." *`Her soul's brother.' Bit much, isn't it. Bleedin' prophecies give everyone delusions of grandeur.*

"Alexander. I concur. But the last one is so vaguely written, even for a prophecy, I have to say it has me quite flummoxed. `One who loves her like no other.' I thought perhaps it was the man she had been seeing, but I understand he left." Spike was struggling with his emotions. *It's me! No one else could love her the way I do! It has to be...but it's not. I know who it is, but it can't be. It can't be him, not him!* He slumped forward, muttering into his hands.

"It's the poof."

"Pardon me? What was that?" Lydia moved closer, as he looked up at her. She was shocked by the abject misery she saw on his face.

"It's Angel."

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	3. Spike Gets A Mission

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. own all these characters. I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes, because I am very, very evil :)

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"Angelus. Are you certain?" Spike merely stood up, walking away. Lydia could see his anguish clearly in the line of his back. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes, lit one and took a long drag before turning to face her. 

"You don't know what it's like, the two of them. All angst and guilt and blood and passion." He spit out the last word with bitter relish. "Trust me, the prophecy is definitely talking about my dear old grandsire." For the umpteenth time since she set foot in Sunnydale that day, Lydia Stokes-Martin found herself in a position for which her Watcher's training had not prepared her. Vampires were to be staked, not helped with relationship issues. She opened her mouth to tell him that they needed to focus on the task at hand.

"And what is it like for you? The...feelings...you have for her." That wasn't what she meant to say. She couldn't believe the words had actually come from her mouth, but watched in fascination as his expression softened.

"It's painful, exquisite torment. It's against the laws of God and man, I know, but when I see her, if I needed to breathe, I couldn't, you know? I love her with all that I am." He took another drag off of his cigarette, then stomped it out, a gesture of finality. "But so does the poof, and since you came to me, I'm assuming you have good reason to believe that I'm not the 'Friend' in the prophecy."

"Yes, we do. The contra-prophecy refers to the 'Slayer's Dark Knight.' From the description, and my...observances...I believed it could be you. Now I am certain that it is." Spike raised an eyebrow in an expression of detached interest, but Lydia could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes. She lowered her eyes to the manuscript and began flipping pages, searching for a new passage.

"Dark Knight, eh? I like that. Makes me sound all romantic. Sounds like something Dru might have called..." Spike trailed off, his recent encounter with Drusilla and Buffy haunting his thoughts. He came back to the present with a start when Lydia began reading.

"Slayer's torment need not be

Her Dark Knight can set her free

His love rejected when expressed

Unknown to her he meets this test

Seven Friends their enemy face

He saves their lives with his embrace"

Lydia stopped reading and looked at Spike. His expression was puzzled, then as comprehension set in it changed to one of remarkable disgust.

"What? No!" He began pacing back in forth as if to somehow elude her words. "That's...horrible! Unless...it doesn't mean..." He stopped short and looked at her hopefully, but the small shake of her head set him pacing again. "Embrace them. Hug the Scoobies! Now that's just wrong...and Angel! That's never going to happen, never, never, never-"

"It's a bit complicated, but yes, the ritual does require that you hold them. Individually, not as a group-" Spike stomped over to her and got in her face, his eyes wild.

"What part of NEVER do you not understand?!" Lydia's expression mixed sympathy, resolve and barely contained amusement. *I really liked it better when she was afraid of me.* He walked away to resume his pacing, slightly calmer. "Besides, it's not like they would let me, they'd stake me a hundred times before they'd let me get that close."

"Ah, well, there is a solution to that." Lydia reached into her overnight bag again and removed a long chain necklace that had a large crystal pendant. The crystal was teardrop-shaped and had a purplish cast.

"Jewelry, pet? You shouldn't have," he teased, eyeing the crystal speculatively. *Good think Harmony left, she'd be squealin' and prattlin' on right now. This kind of thing is right up her dippy alley.* Lydia held the crystal before him triumphantly.

"This is a Stone of Mnemosyne. It's a memory crystal. By holding it in front of someone's face and saying...well, I'd better not say it now, had I?" Laughing lightly, she placed the hand with the crystal behind her back before continuing. "You make sure they're looking at it, and say, 'You Will Forget.' It causes them to go into a trance for five minutes, during which time you can complete the ritual. Afterwards, when they come out of the trance, they will have forgotten the five minutes before the ritual as well. For them it will be like waking from a daydream."

"And the ritual, the one that I am not going to do? What is it, sing bloody Kumbayah and give them a hug?"

"It's very simple, actually." Lydia decided to ignore his sarcasm, and instead reached into her bag and pulled out an ornately carved wooden box. It was narrow and not very deep, and a bit less than a foot long. She snapped it open, showing him seven discs. The discs were approximately an inch in diameter and so thin they were nearly translucent. They were a yellowish green color and seemed to pulse with some kind of energy. Spike touched one tentatively as she spoke and found it warmed his entire hand. "These are the Talismans of the Amagandar. The Amagandar are protective spirits. Once you have used the Stone of Mnemosyne, you place one of these on the forehead of the Friend. Then you embrace them, and make a petition to the Amagandar, the words of which I will teach you. If the disc disappears, and you smell the scent of sage and rosemary, the ritual worked and the curse has been lifted from that person."

"Sounds lovely. I'm sure it's the best ritual to never be performed by me." His flat refusal caused Lydia's temper to suddenly flare.

"Need I remind you what is at stake here? It is not simply whether or not these people will die! Although they will die, I assure you. Perfectly normal and possibly horrible deaths, all within minutes of each other. But as awful as that is, it is the Slayer I am most concerned with. Her future is at risk as well."

"So let me see if I have this all straight. I do nothing, all of the dreaded Scoobies, including my poof of a sire, die possibly nasty deaths in a manner that in no way can be traced to me, causing the Slayer who I have an unholy and unnatural love for to suffer agonizing grief and probably die, thus releasing me from the hell of loving her. Or, I can risk my unlife and limb on a quest to save them, hug them like I care, and go about doing this in utter anonymity, with neither them nor the Slayer ever knowing one thing about it. Does that sum everything up nice and tidy?" 

Looking at him, Lydia knew that he was going to turn her down. *I do still have one card to play, I was just hoping it wouldn't come to that. Heaven forgive me for this.*

"You really think her death will release you?" Lydia slowly moved closer to him, never taking her eyes from his face. Underneath the tough posture, she could see the deep hurt and vulnerability that was his broken heart.

"I think it would be a good start." Lydia stood before him now, her eyes shining with sadness. She reached up and caressed his cheek.

"I'm so sorry. I can't let that happen." Spike suddenly gasped and doubled over, his mind flooding with images --

__

...Giles at the magic shop, a confused expression on his face as he holds a crystal ball for a customer, then the ball shattering as it slips from his fingers. The customer shouts for help as he collapses, clutching his chest...

...Dawn saying goodbye to her school friends, turning for one last wave as she steps off the curb and never seeing the pickup truck until it's too late to do anything but scream...

...Willow and Tara clutching each other, surrounded by vampires inside a school lab, exhausted from the magic used to hold them at bay. Willow's scream as Tara is ripped from her arms, followed by another as fangs tear into her neck...

...Xander in a hard hat, suddenly looking up at the sound of cables snapping, no time to do anything but push his co-workers out of the way before the beams fall...

...Anya standing in the alley behind the magic shop, bravely facing the man with the stocking mask and gun, her expression of bewilderment as the shot is fired...

...Angel dropping his head, his eyes filled with resignation as the stake finds its way home to his heart...

...Buffy standing before seven fresh graves, her face crumbling as she collapses, weeping inconsolably, curled into a ball of twisted agony...

"Oh God, it hurts! Oh God, Buffy! Oh, make it stop...you! What did you do? What have you done to me?"

"It's an empathy spell. The images are from your own mind, they're not what would necessarily happen. But while you're having them, you feel what they feel, and they cannot be stopped unless you agree to fulfill the contra-prophecy."

"You...horrible little...fine, I'll do it, I'll do it!" At his words, the flashes of images and the pain accompanying them ceased, and he sank to his knees in relief. To his surprise, Lydia kneeled before him and gathered him in a hug. After a moment, he allowed himself to relax in her arms, surprised at her strength.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry to have done that to you, but there isn't much time, and I've come such a long way...there's no one else who can do this. You're the only one. And while they won't know it was you, they'll be alive, won't they? And I'll know. If you want, I'll record it in my journal so that future generations of Watchers will know as well." He felt warm wetness on his bare shoulder, and realized it was her tears. Then suddenly she released her hold on him, and he was surprised how reluctant he was to move out of her arms. It had been a long time since he had been held by a woman who wasn't insane or vacuous.

"Won't that be a problem, since you're not supposed to be here?" Lydia shrugged, keeping her expression neutral.

"No one will read my journal until after I'm dead or if I become an active Watcher for a Slayer, which is highly unlikely now...I will write about this in my journal, Spike. You let me worry about what will happen after that." Spike regarded her for a long moment.

"I need you to know...before, when you did that spell on me..."

"Yes, I am s-s-sor-" He cut her off with his fingers on her lips, making a sshh-ing sound.

"I was going to agree. Before the spell. I know I was makin' noise like I wasn't, and honestly, I considered saying no, but I was going to say yes. Not just for the Slayer. Little sis I like all right, don't want baddies gettin' to her. And the witches have been all right to me most of the time. Not saying as I care for any of them, at all mind you, not a bit, but they do help take care of Buffy. She needs them around." Tears spilled from Lydia's eyes once more, and he wiped them away with this hand.

"I w-wish I had known. It's such a horrid spell. But time is so short-"

"You keep sayin' that, luv. Just how near are we to this prophecy being fulfilled, anyway?"

"Three days."

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	4. Spike Watches a Watcher

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. own all these characters. I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes, because I am very, very evil :)

Author's Note: Flashbacks are denoted by brackets [ ]

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Spike slowly crept out of the shadows, wishing for the millionth time that he could smoke a cigarette. If for no other reason than to relieve the boredom. *I cannot believe I'm actually doing this, I'm a soddin do-gooder like my sire now.* When Lydia had left him a few hours ago, he had decided to break into the Magic Box. He was glad he had been quiet about it, because he could hear the sounds of Buffy training hard in the back room. Now he was skulking outside, trying to pretend he was not at all fantasizing about how she looked, all sweaty and breathing heavy. He knew that both Giles and Xander were in there with her. He was hoping one of them would come out alone soon so he could get on with the mission. He absently felt in his pocket for the crystal and box of talismans, as well as a small bag of shimmering powder, and thought back to what she had told him...

__

["In case you are in danger of being caught by the Slayer or someone else that could compromise what you're trying to do, I'm giving you this." Lydia said, handing him the bag of powder. The bag was translucent and he could see the shimmering beige powder inside. Curious, he went to undo the string tying the bag closed when she suddenly grabbed his wrist to stop him. "No, don't! It's sleep sand!"

"Sleep sand? I've heard of that. Packs quite the wallop, I understand." Seeing the speculative look in his eyes, she frowned disapprovingly.

"Yes, it does. I'm not giving you much. The contents of that bag will put one person under for about 24 hours, 2 for 12, 3 for 8 and so on. It should have much the same effect as the memory crystal, in that when the person wakes up they should not clearly remember the minutes before they were dowsed with the sand. Unlike the crystal, however, there is no guarantee that they will not eventually remember, so please try to be cautious and only use the sleep sand as a last resort."

"And I just throw it at them, right?" Lydia sighed, fearing her warning had gone in one ear and out the other.

"Yes, you don't even need to open the bag, it will open on its own. Just make sure you're far enough away that you don't get caught in the spell. A minimum of five feet should be safe."

"This is clever, pet. You're like a supernatural Q,, you know that, the bloke from the James Bond movies? Only I dare say much more enjoyable to look at." He looked at her slyly, enjoying the color that flooded her cheeks.

"Q? I must say I'm feeling more like Moneypenny at the moment, flatterer."]

Spike suddenly became aware of the voice of the Watcher as he emerged from the room, sounding very close. He crept back into the shadows where he could listen unseen.

"Ah, Buffy, yes, I think that should be quite enough for tonight. Let's stop, shall we, while Xander still has the use of both of his kidneys? I'll fetch more ice while you help him out of that...suit..." Giles had reached the small icebox in his office and removed a fresh icepack when he heard the office door close softly, and the click of the lock. He whirled, his expression rapidly changing from concern to disgust.

"Spike. What do you think you're doing?"

"Rupert. I'm glad I found you in."

"Spike, did you break in here? What am I saying, of course you did, it's what you do. Well, it's got to stop. Buffy doesn't-"

"This has nothing to do with Buffy." Spike began to pull the Stone of Mnemosyne from his pocket, enjoying the sudden look of puzzlement on the Watcher's face. "I found something, might be valuable, thought you might want to take a look at it. Maybe buy it for the shop. Hard to come by during regular business hours without combusting." He held the crystal in front of the Watcher's face, seeing the bewilderment change to sudden recognition.

"Good Lord, that's a Stone of-"

"You Will Forget." Giles stiffened, a purple light flashing in his eyes for a brief instant. Then he was completely still. Spike looked at him speculatively for a moment, waving a hand in front of his face a few times.

"Rupert," he called softly in a singsong voice. Getting no answer, he sat back on his heels and smirked. "Well, this is...neat. I could have a lot of fun with you right now, you know that, Watcher?" Feeling the signs of Lydia's empathy spell kicking him, he hastily added. "But I won't! I'm going to save you, because I'm all about goodness and niceness and puppies and cute little babies. A more pathetic wanker than me there never was." He took the box that contained the Talismans of the Amagandar, and removed one. He was again amazed at how warm it made him. He could feel it pulsing through his entire body, almost like the heartbeat he barely remembered having. He placed it on Giles' forehead, noting with casual interest that Giles had no reaction to it. He shut the box and secured it in his pocket. After shuddering once and taking an superfluous deep breath, he reached out both arms and placed them tentatively around the Watcher's shoulders, pulling him slowly into an hug. *Okay, this isn't so b-*

"Yeow!" He jumped away from the Watcher, immediately looking down at the Watcher's hands. He had forgotten about the icepack, which the Watcher was holding in front of his body. In its current position, it was guaranteed to make Spike very cold in his most sensitive region. With a curse, Spike pried the bag from Giles' fingers and threw it on his desk. He froze for a second, listening. Had the Slayer or the boy heard him? Hearing nothing, he released an unneeded breath and grabbed the Watcher into a rough embrace, feeling a sudden urgency to get this over with. He could hear Lydia's voice in his head as he made the incantation:

"I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true."

Spike closed his eyes at the last words, and added his own thoughts. *Rupert, you and I want the same thing, you know? Buffy's life, Buffy's happiness.* The smell of sage and rosemary filled his nostrils, and he quickly released Giles and looked at his forehead. The talisman had vanished. 

"Rupert, it worked!" Spike was surprised at how happy his success had made him. He replaced the icepack into Giles' cold fingers, then listened at the door for a second. Hearing nothing, he tentatively opened the door and moved silently towards the rear entrance of the shop. Suddenly he froze, hearing Buffy's voice rapidly approaching.

"Giles? Giles, where did you go? We need that ice!" Spike whipped his head around, looking for a quick method of escape. Seeing the ladder up to the loft level, he flew up with speed only a vampire possessed, making a whisper soft landing seconds before Buffy's head came into view. He knew it would still be at least a minute before the memory crystal's spell was broken, and if Buffy found Giles now, she would be very suspicious. He looked frantically around for something that he could use to distract her. 

"Buffy?" Xander's head popped into Spike's view as well, his expression one of rather excruciating pain. "Where's the iceman? This groin is groaning."

"I'm so sorry, Xander. This Spike thing just has me so rattled, I'm sorry I was too rough." Buffy touched his cheek gently, as it was the only area she could be certain she wouldn't hurt with contact. Spike fought the urge to move closer. *Got her rattled, do I? Well, at least I know she feels something for me.*

"S'okay, Buff. Though it does remind me that I need to get that dummy fixed. I think that just went to the top of the Xander repair priority list." He dry-swallowed a couple of aspirin and attempted to smile down at her. It was as much grimace as smile. "A little ice and I'll be Rain-Right Xander again. Speaking of which-"

"-where is Giles?" Buffy finished. "Giles!" She called out, shaking her head. She turned to Xander. "He must still be back in his office. I swear if he's reading a prophecy I'm going to take some of this Spike-anger out on him." Spike winced as she stalked back towards the office, Xander moving much more slowly behind her. She pushed the door open, seeing Giles standing apparently deep in thought with his back to her, and cleared her throat loudly.

"Ahem! Giles!" Giles suddenly stirred, coming into the present with a start and almost dropping the icepack. He turned quickly and seemed confused by Buffy's presence.

"Buffy, what in the world?" Shaking her head reproachfully, Buffy strode over to him and took the icepack from his hand. She handed the ice to Xander, who immediately placed it on his thigh and limped away wearing an expression of relief. Turning back to Giles, she cocked hear head and looked at him with amusement.

"Where were you just now?"

"I-I'm not really certain. I guess I was thinking, but I don't know about what, it's very odd. And I thought I saw..." Giles trailed off, trying hard to remember something, it was on the tip of his brain.

"Thought you saw what?" Buffy looked mildly concerned when Giles shook his head.

"I'm not certain of that, either." Buffy looked at the clock behind him, and gave a low whistle.

"Well, it's no wonder we lost you. It's nearly dawn. I'm really sorry, Giles. I didn't mean to keep you and Xander at this all night. Anya's going to be really pissed off. And you must be exhausted, I know I am." Giles sighed.

"You're probably right. I should try to get a few hours of sleep in before we open. I'll take Xander home, you go ahead and head home yourself."

Spike had been watching Xander sitting with the icepack, wondering if it was worth the risk to come down and perform the ritual on him. *Buffy and the Watcher will be out any second, best to wait for a better opportunity.* At that exact moment, Buffy and Giles emerged, confirming the wisdom of that course of action. They swiftly collected Xander, Buffy helping him towards the front exit. 

Giles stood in the doorway for a moment, looking back over the shop as if certain something was out of place, but unable to determine exactly what. Finally, hearing Buffy's call, he shut the door, shaking his head and whistling the tune to Scarborough Fair. *Now where did that come from?*

Spike waited about five minutes before emerging from his hiding place, noting with dismay that sunlight was beginning to filter into the shop. *I guess this is where I'm spending my day,* he thought dismally, reaching into the pocket that did not have his magical items, and pulling out a bag of blood.

"Good thing I thought to bring provisions, now that I'm a bloody boy scout. All being prepared and that rot," he muttered aloud to himself. Closing his eyes as he fed, he saw Lydia smiling at him in his mind's eye. *I'm glad one of us is happy,* he thought to her sourly. In his mind, he only saw her smile grow wider, and he groaned to himself. He settled into a dark corner of the loft, and gathered up a Cloak of Darkness that someone had hung up there. *Right now my pillow, later my way out of here.* he thought, pleased at his find, and within minutes was sound asleep.

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	5. Spike Faces His (Ex)Demon

Disclaimer: Joss & Co. own all these characters. I'm just using them for my own nefarious purposes, because I am very, very evil :)

And this installation is dedicated to the fan club - Hi Dawnmeister! :)

**************************************

A loud banging sound startled Spike awake a few hours later. Sneaking a peek from his hiding place, he saw Anya had arrived, as had a shipment of something. She was whacking away at a crate with a crowbar with much gusto but little success. *This would be a good time to have a little one-on-one with the girl,* he thought, moving forward, then scurrying back again when he saw Giles running over.

"Ah, yes, Anya, perhaps you should let me handle this one." Anya flashed him a look that would surely have killed him where he stood if she still wielded that kind of power, then dropped the crowbar on the crate in a gesture of acquiescence. 

"Fine. It's probably full of more chicken feet anyway. You should let me do the ordering, especially if you keep staying out all night with Xander."

"Anya, I did not stay out all night with-"

"And you returned him damaged! You let Buffy damage him, Giles." Anya looked more worried than angry now, Spike noted. "It's bad enough he might be eaten by vampires or ripped apart by monsters, but now I have to worry he might be killed by his own friends!"

"Anya, did Xander say he was badly hurt?" At Giles' expression of concern, Anya sighed heavily.

"No, he said he was fine," she conceded reluctantly. "He said a few hours sleep and some aspirin and he would be unbroken enough to have sex." Spike smirked when he saw the look of long-suffering on Giles' face at this revelation. Deciding that it was best to ignore this latest information overload from his assistant, he set about prying the lid off the crate. From the pouting expression on Anya's face, she was not quite ready to let it go. "That's not the point. I don't want Xander to have to recover, I want him unbroken all the time! You're in charge of Buffy, tell her to stop hurting him, especially in the good places." Moving away a bit, she grumbled more softly, mostly to herself, "I don't see why you can't be the one in the suit, it is your job after all. But no, Giles is too old and fragile, let's put Anya's boyfriend in danger instead." With a final thrust born as much from desperation as determination, Giles lifted the lid from the crate and began pulling items from inside.

"Anya, some of the things in the crate should not go on the floor, can you take them to the loft for me, please? Thank you ever so much." Lifting three small winged female idols from the crate, he placed them in Anya's arms. Anya took a look at them and gave Giles a questioning look. 

"You do realize that someone could summon Etruscan hell-demonesses with these. We don't have enough problems with our own Hellgoddess right now? You want more?"

"Precisely why I ordered them, actually. I hope to study them in order to possibly find new ways to defeat...please, just put them upstairs, Anya. I know what I'm doing." Anya's face said she believed the opposite, but she dutifully headed to the loft. Giles called after her. "And mind you, be careful with them. The banishment ritual for Tuchulcha alone would take at least a fortnight." Anya stomped up the stairs, muttering to herself.

"As if there's something you can tell me about Tuchulcha. Like you even know Tuchulcha. I know Tuchulcha, I've hung out with Tuchulcha, I've invoked her in vengeance and, and, and I helped polish her beak once. We were practically friends, so don't tell me-" Anya was cut off by a sudden hand over her mouth, startling her so much she nearly did drop the idols. A very familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Hush now, pet. Let's be very quiet-oof!" Anya's elbow in his ribs prompted Spike to let go of her, and she whirled around to face him.

"Spike! What are you doing up here?" Spike held his hands up in surrender, eyeing the idols nervously.

"Mind putting those someplace safe first? Summoning an Etruscan hell-bitch isn't exactly what I had in mind for today." Keeping both eyes suspiciously on Spike all the while, Anya placed the idols gently on a low shelf. A sudden realization hit her, and she immediately marched over to him and smacked him hard on the shoulder.

"Hey! What was that-"

"It's all your fault! You were the one who had to go and try to kill Buffy. You made her so mad she injured Xander instead of you. He could have wound up sterile!" Spike was about to protest the trying-to-kill-Buffy part, but instead chuckled softly at the sterile-Xander part. Seeing she was about to attack again, he hastily removed the crystal from his pocket and held it in front of her face. "What are you-"

"You Will Forget." Checking to make certain that she was in the trance, Spike tried to work more quickly this time. He was mindful of Giles moving about downstairs, putting away items and preparing the shop to open. It was only a matter of time before he began to wonder what was taking Anya so long, though at the moment he was probably counting his blessings. Spike removed the second talisman and held it for a brief second, wondering if the sensation would ever grow less enthralling. Placing it upon the girl's forehead, he carefully moved into the embrace, finding holding Anya much more pleasurable than holding the Watcher had been. He briefly buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent curiously. She smelled of wine and pomegranates and Ivory soap, a commingling of ancient myth and modern conveniences. As he began the entreaty, he once again heard Lydia's voice blending with his own:

"I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true."

As Lydia's voice in his head grew silent once more, Spike thought, *This is too strange. What did that witch of a Watcher do to me?* Then he closed his eyes and thought about Anya. *You were a beautiful, terrifying demon, and as a mortal you're a real spitfire. I'd miss you.* The fragrance of sage and rosemary again let him know of his success, and he released her, throwing the Cloak of Darkness about his shoulders and retreating to a dark corner. Unless someone was specifically looking for him, he knew the Cloak would prevent him from being seen. Down below he heard the door to the shop open and Willow call out to Giles. *Good, that should keep him occupied until she comes out of it. And maybe I'll get a chance to put the whammy on Teen Witch, too.* Though he continued to watch Anya, he strained to hear the conversation below.

"Ah, Willow, good. I've just received a shipment of Cunningham herbal guides, do you mind helping me set up the display?"

"Of course not, Giles, but where's the paid help? Off cuddling the money?" Giles laughed shortly, a bit nervous.

"Anya's definitely around. I'm afraid that she's rather cross with me at the moment, on account of what happened to Xander."

"Cross? Anya? That's hard to- oh my goddess, Xander?" Willow's voice had lost its sarcastic edge and now was on the perimeter of panic. "Something happened to Xander? Is he all right? No one called me, why didn't you call me, Giles?"

"No, no, Willow, Xander's fine. He was helping Buffy train last night, and well, what with the Spike situation...you do know about that?" Willow must have nodded, because he continued. "Well, I guess it wasn't the best plan to have Xander take the place of the training dummy last night."

"Oh, I see...wait, Xander wore the puffy suit last night and Buffy didn't call me?" Spike's attention was diverted by Anya's sudden movement. She swayed for a moment, looking around her in confusion.

"What am I doing up here?" she wondered aloud. Spike stiffened as she looked directly at him for a moment. He briefly feared that perhaps his Cloak of Darkness had a flaw, as had been known to happen on occasion, but she turned her back to him and strode towards the front of the loft, looking down at Giles and Willow. Spike leaned back in relief. *That's two Scoobies down, only five more to go. And they bloody well owe me good!*

"Giles?" Anya called tentatively down, still feeling strange and disoriented.

"Yes, Anya, are you quite finished up there?" Anya was about to tell Giles she had no idea why she was even in the loft, when she registered that Willow was helping Giles and the familiar sense of anxiety about her place took hold. *I can't let Giles know I don't remember, he might lose confidence in me.* Instead she smiled brightly and nodded.

"Yes, all done! Did you need anything while I'm here?" Giles shook his head bemusedly, amazed as always at her mercurial moods.

"Come on down and help us here, it's nearly time to open." Spike watched her climb down, pleased with his success but already working on a new quandary: finding a way to entice Willow to come to the loft. *Too bad Lydia didn't give me any summoning spells, * he mused ruefully. *But maybe there's something up here I can use.* Picking up a nearby tome, he began leafing through it with fresh determination.

**********************************

Meanwhile, back in London, Lydia Stokes-Martin wearily turned the key in the lock of her flat, and entered without even bothering to switch on the lights. She didn't even know it was possible to feel this exhausted. Yet as she kicked off her shoes, she also felt more alive than ever before, almost giddy with triumph. She had already been to the seat of the Watcher's Council and returned the Santiago Codex, It appeared that the illusion she had created to keep its absence from being noticed had neither been detected nor tampered with. All in all, things had gone better than she would have thought possible, and she now held out a small glimmer of hope that things might actually turn out. She moved throughout the darkened residence, throwing her coat on her sofa without needing to see it. Yawning, she had almost made it to her bedroom when sudden awareness quickened her heartbeat and halted her movement.

She was not alone. Someone, or something, was in her flat with her.

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	6. Lydia Attempts an Explanation

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. I did create a few originals here (Colin, Aldric and Alan - you'll see) but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free!

Author's Note: Flashbacks are denoted by brackets [ ].

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Lydia took a deep breath to keep from panicking. Using a trick she had learned in Watcher training, she closed her eyes and reached her senses outward, psychically feeling the room to better pinpoint this foreign presence. *Standing, by the sofa, seems to be human, but definite traces of magick,* she surmised, preparing to defend herself by any means necessary. She slowly inched her hand forward, feeling for the lamp that rested on the table outside her bedroom door. Sensing movement, she grabbed for the lamp and whirled around as the unknown visitor switched on the light. Lydia gasped as she got her first good look at her surprise guest. The face was the same one she saw in the mirror every morning. The other Lydia smirked and pointed towards the lamp.

"Are you going to hit me with that?" her double asked dryly in a voice that was several shades deeper than her own. Lydia put the lamp down, sagging in relief. 

"Aldric. What are you doing here?" With a shake of blonde hair, the image of Lydia dissolved into a lanky, fair-skinned young man wearing faded blue jeans and a dark gray cable knit sweater. The slightly amused expression had not left his face, but behind his wire-rimmed glasses his laughing gray eyes also held a touch of concern. 

"What do you think? Looking out for my little sister." Aldric gestured towards the window of the flat. "They're having you watched. Look outside." Lydia moved to the window, and while standing flat against the wall to avoid being seen, peaked through the curtain to the street below. She immediately recognized the dark blue car across the street, and the man sitting in the driver's seat. From the angle she couldn't tell if he was watching the building or not. 

"How long?" she asked softly. 

"Started almost immediately after you left. After your little confrontation with Travers, I think he suspected that you might try to contact Rupert Giles. Fortunately, he made the colossal error of assigning Bixby to keep an eye on you. Obsequious ass!" Aldric snorted. "I've been imitating you for two days and he's never been the wiser. Fool wouldn't recognize a glamour if I made him look like Marilyn Monroe." Lydia couldn't help but smile in agreement. Like the Stokes-Martins, the Bixbys were Watchers of long standing, but Colin Bixby was not the finest contribution to the family business. What he lacked in actual intelligence or ability, however, he had more than compensated for in sycophantic deportment, and he had thus manage to ingratiate himself into Quentin Traver's inner circle. He was too dense to realize that his prized position was little more than that of flunky. 

"Quentin isn't a fool. If he assigned Bixby, he mustn't really suspect."

"That you took off for America to contact William the Bloody because you believe him to be the Dark Knight from the contra-prophecy? Oh, I can assure you that idea would not have occurred to him. Despite your little disagreement, you are still golden in his eyes, sister dear." Although his tone was gentle, Lydia grimaced. Her stellar standing in the Council, and her brother's lack of same, were a definite sore point for her. Aldric possessed one of the more brilliant minds of any of the Council and a truly extraordinary talent for magicks. These gifts were offset by his independent nature and utter refusal to play Council politics. Some members of the Council had perceived him as a possible threat to stability, and there was actually a movement at work to have him eliminated until it became clear that he had no ambitions to do anything more than translate obscure texts and spells into English and a dozen other languages. He was promptly relegated to those duties and subsequently forgotten by almost everyone, much to the everlasting shame of their father. His aspirations at that point became squarely attached to Lydia. Her rise through the ranks had been swift and sure, and although she was considered too 'idealistic' to ever achieve active Watcher status, her father and Quentin Travers had definite plans for her future. Aware of her discomfort, Aldric dropped the subject and moved into the small kitchen. 

"Yes, well, fortunately Bixby won't be a problem. I dropped a little sleep sand when I got here tonight in anticipation of your return. I'm certain he didn't see you." Lydia seated herself at her tiny kitchen table and watched him put the kettle on, once again aware of her extreme tiredness. 

"That is a relief. Two Lydias might have made him slightly suspicious." Aldric raised an eyebrow incredulously and she laughed quietly. 

"Leaving aside the fascinating subject of Colin Bixby for a moment, are you ever going to tell me what happened in America? Did you find the vampire?" Aldric had discovered the prophecy, of course. Upon finding the Council singularly disinterested, he had shown it to Lydia. She had taken the case to Travers, with no greater success than her brother, much to both of their disbelief. Undeterred, Lydia had gone to Aldric with her plan to persuade Spike to help save the Slayer, and he had helped her secure all the needed items and spells, as well as offering aid in creating the illusion that the Codex was undisturbed. He had a vested interest in the results of this excursion. 

"Yes, I found him, and he agreed to help, just like I said he would." Lydia's chin lifted somewhat defiantly. As free-spirited as her brother was, he shared the opinion of most of the council that vampires were incapable of acting selflessly, and had doubted that she would be able to bring Spike around. 

"Ah, you used the empathy spell," he grinned. 

"No! Well, yes, but I shouldn't have. It was unnecessary." Ignoring her brother's dubious stare, she continued excitedly. "And it's working! Two of the Friends – sorry, Followers - have already been saved." 

"And just how would you know that?" Lydia looked at her hands guiltily, as her brother's lightening quick mind came to its own conclusion. "Oh, Lydia, for God's sake! You didn't! Please tell me you didn't do what I'm thinking!" 

__

["You're certain you've memorized the incantation?" 

"We've been over it a thousand bloody times, luv! I think I'll be saying it in my sleep for the next twenty years." Lydia nodded uncertainly. Now that her time had drawn to a close, she was anxious that nothing had been forgotten. The consequences would be disastrous, and she had come so far. 

"This is it, then. I must be going." Was it her imagination, or did he look sorry to see her leave? She couldn't be sure. Spike cleared his throat as she collected the Codex and restored it to her bag. 

"All right then." Lydia lifted the bag and looked at him gravely. 

"It's all up to you now, Spike. No one else. I won't be able to help you." Spike nodded, matching her serious expression. 

"Is there a way I can contact you? To let you know when it's done?" Lydia came to a sudden decision. She strode purposefully to Spike, grabbed his head in her hands, and kissed him hard on the lips. The contact was brief but intense, and left him feeling mildly lightheaded. She released her grip on him but stayed in close. He could feel the heat of her breath. 

"You won't need to contact me. I'll know," she whispered. Then laughing a bit uneasily, she backed away. "Of course I'll know. In three days, when the prophecy isn't fulfilled and the Friends are alive." Squaring her shoulders, she collected her umbrella and moved to the door of the crypt, stopping and turning to look back when she reached the entrance. His back was to her. He had not moved or spoken since the kiss. 

"Goodbye, Spike." She moved into the night without awaiting his reply. The skies were now clear, and she felt her conscience was cloudless as well.] 

Spike's thoughts suddenly returned to the present, slightly disoriented by the unexpected memory. He was still in the loft of the Magic Box. *That was it, wasn't it? That kiss, she did something.* He could feel something was different. He had recalled the good-byes from yesterday as if through the Watcher's eyes. And several times he had felt as if she was there with him. He shook his head in exasperation. *Nothing to be done about it now, but when this is all over I am definitely finding that girl. She'll be sorry she messed with my head.* He looked down at the spell he had found to entice Willow into the loft. Fortunately it required no ingredients, only strength of will, which was something Spike was finding he had in overabundance. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he began gathering his energy while listening to the conversation below for an opportunity. Tara and Xander had arrived at the shop a short time after the shop had opened, and were currently talking to Willow while Anya and Giles dealt with customers. Making certain his Cloak was secure, he leaned forward across the railing to observe them more closely. Willow and Tara both were seated at the table below, with Xander sitting on the table between them. 

"Has anyone heard from Buffy yet this morning?" Willow asked. Her mildly worried expression was mirrored by her girlfriend. Xander shook his head. 

"Nah, but we were doing the training thing until pretty late last night. Working off the revulsion that is 'Spike has declared his everlasting love and tried to kill me at the same time.' Pardon me while I shudder at the thought." Spike felt his game face rising to the surface and suppressed the urge to growl at the young idiot. *You know nothing about it, you stupid whelp!* 

"It was bad?" Tara asked softly. Spike thought the girl was pretty much permanently on mute. Xander shrugged, wincing a bit at the stiffness in his shoulder. He quickly looked at Anya to see if she'd noticed before responding. 

"She was pretty seriously wigged, and Anya was pretty seriously ticked. Buffy may be laying a bit low for now." 

At Tara's puzzled look, Willow interjected, "Buffy was upset about Spike and went a bit medieval on Xander last night, which, come to think of it, is an expression that Anya probably has an interesting appreciation of." Ignoring the glower from Xander, she leaned in conspiratorially to Tara across his body. "She was worried he might be nonfunctional." Tara smiled and nodded understanding. 

"But she's going to come to the party tonight, right?" Tara looked back and forth between her two friends seeking their agreement. Both Willow and Xander nodded. 

"Absolutely. A bit of party fun is exactly what the doctor ordered to chase away the Spike-wants-me-as-a-sextoy blues." Unfortunately, Anya had come over in time to catch only Xander's flippant comment. 

"Spike wants you as a sextoy?" she shrieked loudly, catching the alarmed attention of several shop patrons and earning a dirty look from Giles. 

"As if," Spike sniggered softly to himself. Xander rose hastily to quiet his girlfriend. 

"Not me, Ahn. Buffy," he said softly but with urgency, flashing a manic smile at the customers who were amusedly returning to their business. Anya looked relieved.

"Good. I knew that. And even if Spike did want to have sex with you, you wouldn't, because you love me. And you wouldn't have sex with a vampire." Xander put his arms around her and gave her a small squeeze.

"Truer words were never spoken," he agreed. During this exchange, Willow had whispered something to Tara and was now looking at some of the crystals that had arrived in the morning shipment a few feet away. Tara was still watching Xander and Anya with amusement. "I have a small job to do this afternoon, do you want me to pick you up after work?" To Xander's confusion, Anya immediately looked at Tara, who looked over her shoulder to locate Willow. Seeing that she was out of earshot, she stood up and moved closer to her friends.

"Actually, Anya was going to m-meet with me after work. To h-help me with something," she volunteered hesitantly. Xander looked back and forth between the two of them, then addressed Tara, matching her quiet tone.

"I take it this is a secret something? A don't-tell-Willow something?"

"It's a s-surprise something. Anya's going to help me learn some computer things. I've always been a bit scared of them, and Willow wants to teach me, but I want to learn some of the basics on my own, so I don't seem too d-dumb. Anya offered to help." Xander looked at Anya questioningly, and she nodded.

"I'm good at online things, you know." Xander smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

"I think that's great, Ahn. I'm proud of you." Anya beamed back at him.

None of them noticed Willow climbing the steps to the loft. No one in the Magic Box did.

************************************

"You bonded yourself. To a vampire." Lydia could see her brother almost shaking with fury.

"I can explain-"

"Not just any vampire, mind you," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "A master vampire. One who has killed not one, but two Slayers. William the Bloody! You bonded yourself to bloody William the Bloody!!" At the last, he pounded on the table, rattling the teacups at the exact moment the tea kettle whistled shrilly. Aldric slumped into a seat and placed his head in his hands as Lydia arose to remove the kettle, glad of a reason to move away from him.

"It's only temporary. Three days. Just until the prophecy is averted." She looked at him beseechingly as she poured the tea. "It's the only way I could know what was going on. Could help." He removed his hands from his face and looked at her, his face still awash with dismay.

"Still, Lydia, what were you thinking? Bonding spells are very tricky things. What goes from mind to mind can't always be controlled. You could end up in Piccadilly trying to bite some wanker of a tourist in the neck! What would our father have to say about that? Or Quentin? Or Alan?" Lydia flinched, but said nothing. Aldric continued, "And I never taught you such a spell, where did you get it?" Lydia's cheeks now flushed angrily.

"I have been trained, you know. I do have sources of knowledge other than my big brother's overly egotistical fat head." Aldric looked only slightly remorseful. As he opened his mouth to comment again, she cut him off. "And as for the rest, I know what I'm doing. I can control it, and there will be no need for Father, or Quentin, or especially Alan to know anything about it." Her gaze wandered absently to a framed photograph on a small table near the kitchen, and she walked over and picked it up. It showed a darkly handsome man about her brother's age, standing in front of the Sydney Opera House. He was smiling broadly, and one could almost ignore the cruel set of his mouth and the coldness of his chocolate brown eyes. Alan Travers. Quentin's nephew, in Australia keeping an eye on a young girl the Council was certain was to be the next Slayer. Alan Travers, her fiancee. A sudden awareness made her almost drop the picture, and she turned to her brother with an expression of rapture. "It's happening again. He's performing the spell."

***********************************

Spike had decided not to waste time with small talk this time. The second Willow was far enough back to not be seen, he used the crystal. Placing the talisman on her forehead, he wrapped his arms around her, shocked at how different it felt from hugging the ex-demon. He could feel power, energy. The witch practically hummed with it. As he had with Anya, he put his head in her hair and smelled. Willow smelled of strawberries, fresh and summery, with a trace of something exotic and floral. He imagined that was the scent of her lover. This time as he began the petition to the Amagandar, he could practically feel Lydia inside his mind.

""I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another..."

************************************** 

Aldric watched with fascinated dread as Lydia recited the incantation, knowing she was no longer even aware of his presence.

"...Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar..."

************************************** 

Spike found himself saying the words with a greater intensity than before.

"...Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true."

Holding her close, he thought about the time Willow had kept him from ending his sorry unlife. *Please, let me return the favor. She deserves life.* He sighed in relief as he smelled the familiar scent, than as he had before, settled into his Cloak and his corner to wait. He vaguely heard Xander making his good-byes.

"So we'll meet you guys at the party, then? You'll bring Buffy with you?" he was asking Tara. Spike smiled to himself as they confirmed the location and time of the event. *Just got a new date to pencil into my social calendar. An opportunity to hex a Scooby or too and see Buffy in her pretty party clothes shouldn't be missed.*

************************************** 

Lydia opened her eyes to meet her brother's frantic gaze. She smiled beatifically.

"It worked. We saved her, Willow Rosenberg."

"Lydia..."

"Don't you see? You know how important this is to me, Aldric. Everything will be fine." Aldric shook his head slowly.

"Lydia, Alan is coming. Here. Tomorrow."

Feedback, please! 


	7. Spike Takes a Meeting

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. I did create a few originals here (Colin, Aldric, Geoffrey and Alan) but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free!

Author's Note: Flashbacks are denoted by brackets [ ].

************************************** 

"Alan's coming? He can't be. That's not possible." Lydia fought the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her.

"He's already on his way." Aldric had begun pacing, running his fingers absently through his sandy hair. This was characteristic of him when he was working out a problem. "If he sees you, he's going to know something's different."

"Maybe I can avoid him." Lydia knew it was out of the question, but she had to say it. Aldric shook his head, still pacing.

"He's coming all the way from Australia to see you. At least that's part of the reason he's coming. You can't not see him, they'll know something's not right." Aldric suddenly stopped pacing, turning to look at his sister, now desolately staring into her tea cup. "You'll have to undo the bonding. It's the only solution." Lydia stared at him, stunned.

"Impossible. That can't be done. Not without one of us being destroyed." Aldric shook his head, gesturing animatedly.

"No, no, no, most spellcasters think that, but it's wrong. There are ways to negate some bonding spells without harming either party. I'll need to consult some of the texts, and I'll need the spell that you used, but I'm fairly sure it can be done. At the very least we can try."

"No." The word was spoken quietly, but firmly. "I won't undo the bonding. I can't."

"Lydia, you aren't thinking clearly-"

"Spike needs me. To help with the prayers to the Amagandar."

"If the vampire really needed you, then there would be something in the prophecy about you, wouldn't you think?" The combination of exhaustion and agitation fueled Lydia's fury. She strode to her brother and slapped him hard, leaving him completely stunned. Out of reflex he grabbed her hand to keep her from striking him again.

"Aldric, YOU are the one whose always telling me that the future is uncertain, that prophecies are not always complete! You can't know that he doesn't need me." Tears began to well up in her soft blue eyes. "I know he does. I can feel it. I have to help him save them. I can't explain, I j-just know I d-do." She dissolved into broken sobs at the end, and Aldric gathered her in his arms. He sighed in resignation.

"Very well, Lydia. I won't mention it again. But this does leave us with a major problem to solve." He sighed again, seeing how completely worn out she was. "Which we won't get to the bottom of tonight. You need to get some rest. I'll take the sofa, and we'll tackle this again in the morning." 

Lydia felt too drained to do more than nod. *Sleep really is what I need...I just hope Spike doesn't attempt the ritual again for a few hours. I'll find a way to deal with Alan tomorrow.* 

************************************** 

Spike stirred restlessly in his hiding place in the Magic Box. Tara had left to walk a sulking Willow to class. Giles had unfortunately found her in the loft moments after she had come out of her trance and had subjected her to a twenty minute lecture on forbidden magicks and their dangers. Willow's expression had moved between confusion, shame and annoyance throughout, her mouth working like a fish, wanting to object but having no idea what to say in her defense. Spike had found the entire thing highly entertaining.

With Tara and Xander gone, and no sign of either of the Summers girls, there was nothing to do but watch Anya and Giles. That comedic exercise had lost his interest hours ago. Plus he found the spell he had used on Willow left him drained and hungry, and the last bag of blood had only slightly taken the edge off. The afternoon rush was over and the shop was relatively free of customers, so he decided that it was time to move on. There was still the sun to worry about, but the stolen Cloak of Darkness would protect him better than his usual blanket. Just a few feet to the sewers and he'd be home free.

Moving stealthily, he slipped soundlessly by Giles, engaged in an animated discussion about ancient Babylonian myth with an man who was elderly enough to possibly have known them firsthand, then by Anya, counting money in the cash register in an almost ecstatic state. He followed a very goth-looking wicca on her way to the door. No one observed that the door remained open a bit longer than normal when she left.

A few hours later, fed, rested, and dressed for the party, Spike contemplated his next move. *Three down, four to go. The mouse and the whelp will be at the party tonight...and my bloody lame sire's going to have to be last, isn't he? Which leaves little sis.* Spike had overheard Giles on the phone agreeing reluctantly to watch Dawn while Joyce and Buffy were out that night. *So the Nibblet's probably at home now...but so is Buffy. Probably making herself all fancy for tonight, wearing her little robe while she picks out something to wear, standing before her window parading her wares for all the world to see...* 

Minutes later Spike was standing under the tree in front of the Summers house, smoking a cigarette with the Cloak of Darkness still wrapped around him. The sun had nearly set, but he wanted to watch unobserved. Dawn was chatting vivaciously with her mother in the living room. Joyce seemed especially edgy, and kept moving about, whereas Dawn seemed to be highly amused. Spike knew he could no longer enter the house, but planned to use the spell he had used earlier to induce the girl to come to him. He should be watching Dawn closely for an opportunity...but there was light in Buffy's window. Despite all of his best efforts, he couldn't stop himself from constantly trying to catch a glimpse of her. He was startled when Giles seemed to suddenly appear on the porch and almost revealed his presence. 

*Damn, I didn't even sense him coming. Got to focus, mate,* he admonished himself. Joyce had greeted Giles warmly and they had moved back to the kitchen leaving Dawn alone at the table, chewing on an pencil as she worked out some math problem. Spike knew he had to seize this opportunity. He closed his eyes and focused on Dawn, repeating the simple word in his head that worked the spell *Gubbaghey... gubbaghey... gubbaghey...* Maintaining focus, he opened his eyes as Dawn slowly stood and began moving towards the front door. She got to the door, took a step out and hesitated. Spike realized she was resisting the spell and concentrated harder. *gubbaghey ...gubbaghey...*

One step towards him...

*...gubbaghey...gubbaghey...*

Another, she was closer, but not close enough.

*...gubbaghey...come on, girl...gubbaghey...*

A few more steps, she was almost there, he could almost reach-

"Dawn!" Spike gasped, and his concentration broke. Dawn whirled to confront the voice.

"Mom?" Joyce walked over to her daughter and began pulling her back towards the entrance. Night had fallen, and she scanned the area for danger.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked in bewilderment. Dawn shrugged.

"I guess I needed air, I just felt like coming outside," Joyce didn't reply, she almost seemed to be listening to something. Dawn looked at her with a touch of worry. "Mom, is everything...?

"Everything's fine, Dawn. Mr. Giles went up to talk to Buffy. Go in and finish your homework, I'll be in in a minute." Dawn grinned.

"You just want to keep an eye out for your dream date." Joyce blushed slightly but smiled indulgently back at her daughter.

"Go on, move it." Still smiling widely, Dawn bounced back into the house. Joyce left the door open, but moved away towards the front of the porch. She spoke out into the night.

"I know you're here. Come out where I can see you." Spike reeled and instinctively moved closer to the tree. *She knows...how can she...* He hesitated for a long moment, then came to a decision. Removing the cloak, he moved into the light, looking up at her.

"Hello, Joyce," he said evenly, noting that she looked not even remotely surprised that it was him. "You look quite fetching this evening." He thought flattery couldn't hurt, and actually it was true, she did look lovely dressed up for her date.

"Spike." The iciness in her tone actually made him shiver. "Why are you here, and what do you want with my girls?" 

"Well, you see, Joyce..." Spike had known that the question was coming, but was still struggling to come up with an answer. The truth was out of the question. *I came to put a little hex on your youngest so that she won't die in a couple days time thus sending your older girl into an emotional spiral that will get her killed...see, what a good guy I am?* As he struggled to come up with another explanation, Joyce sighed. 

"Oh, Spike. This has got to stop. I won't have you upsetting Buffy and Dawn this way."

"I don't know what you mean," he lied, looking down at his feet. He was unable to meet her gaze.

"We both know you do. Buffy doesn't want you here, Spike. And you can't use Dawn to get to her. I'm warning you, keep away from my daughters," Spike looked up at her, having a sudden flash of memory.

__

[Spike knew victory was at hand, and a third Slayer was about to be notched into his belt. The blonde was done and there was no way for her to escape. And bonus, this Slayer had a adorable little sister who was crouching helplessly against the wall, dazed and paralyzed with fright and hoarse from screaming. She was to be the reward for his triumph. He knew the shock and pain of seeing her sister killed before her eyes would make her blood that much more sweet. Spike raised the two by four...and flew backward from a sudden blow to the face. He looked up at the mother lion protecting her cubs.

"You get the hell away from my daughters!" Joyce spit out, and Spike knew he was in trouble. He looked around for reinforcements and saw that the battle was all but lost. Retreat was in order. Looking back, he saw Buffy flanking her mother, murder her in eyes, with an equally pissed off little sister on the other side. 

"Women!" he muttered as he made his escape.] 

"You haven't got an axe, have you?" Joyce stared at him for a moment, then completely astounded him by laughing. It was genuine laughter, and Spike found himself joining in. After the laughter died down, he cocked his head at her. "This thing with Buffy, I love her, Joyce, but it has nothing to do with you and me." Joyce regarded him sadly.

"The funny thing is, Spike, I like you. In another time, another place, maybe if we were both alive, we might have been friends. But here and now, I have Buffy to think of. And you say you love her, but you almost got her killed and you've frightened us all badly. You have to go away, you can't be around us anymore." Spike was surprised at how truly distressing her words were to him.

"No, it doesn't have to be that way."

"Yes, it does. Spike, when Buffy ran away, I thought I'd lost her. When she started college, she was still around, but it was like I lost her again for a while. Now she's here, and the crisis with me has past and we've gotten so close again. I won't do anything to risk my relationship with my daughter, and she's clear that she wants you gone. I know that Dawn is very fond of you, but I won't let you use her or drive a wedge between them. If you really love Buffy, as you say, you will leave us in peace." Hearing Buffy and Giles voices approaching as they descended the stairs, she made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go now, before Buffy sees you here! Hurry!" Spike felt numb as he gathered up the Cloak hurriedly and vanished into the night. Joyce watched him go, knowing she had done what was necessary, but still feeling guilty somehow. She turned at Buffy's approach.

"Mom, whatcha looking at? Is there something out here?" Joyce smiled back at her daughter nervously.

"There's nothing. I'm just keeping an eye out for Brian." Buffy smiled indulgently at her mother, but placed a firm hand on her arm to draw her inside.

"I get it, Mom, but I think that your date would rather make small talk with the you that still has all your blood. Inside waiting is the standard recommendation for Sunnydale dating. Also, make sure this Brian guy comes into the house before you go without an invitation so I don't have to worry, 'kay?"

"You're right, honey, of course." Joyce allowed herself to be brought inside, giving one more glimpse into the darkness. *Goodbye, William. I hope you find some peace.*

Spike stood and watched the house for a long moment before turning to head for the party. *Goodbye, Joyce. I will find a way to get to Dawn, and I'll save both your daughters. I swear on my love for Buffy.* He shook his head and chuckled to himself. *God, I am turning into such a poof.*

************************************** 

Lydia stirred restlessly. Despite her exhaustion, she had only managed a few fitful hours of sleep. Her mind kept straying to Alan's impending visit. Which meant actually thinking about Alan, which was something she had been trying to avoid doing for some time.

She would have liked to say that she loved Alan, but it wasn't true. When they had first met at Cromwell, the school where all Watcher families shipped their children for education, she had been a gawky, impressionable fourteen year old and he had been eighteen, the head of his class and so attractive and charming. Like all the girls at school, she had had a major crush on Alan, and had swooned when he had picked her over girls so much older and prettier. She thought she would never be happier, but then she discovered the truth. Alan's declarations of love were a lie. Their relationship had been arranged behind closed doors between Quentin Travers and her father. Geoffrey Stokes-Martin recognized that Alan Travers would yield considerable influence, and his ambition led him to promise his only daughter to the man in exchange for more power. And Alan went along with the plan. Lydia's heart was broken, but she dutifully accepted his proposal seven years later, not seeing that she had any other choice. She had never been able to defy her father or the Council. But secretly, in her heart, Lydia knew she had committed the ultimate sin against them all. She had fallen in love with someone else. A vampire.

It happened when she was doing her thesis. She had originally decided to study madness and vampires, and had been doing work on Angelus and Drusilla. Becoming fascinated by William the Bloody, she shifted gears. Everyone found her dedication to her studies admirable, never suspecting that she was enthralled by the stories of this horrible killer. No one, least of all Alan, ever imagined that when she was kissing her fiancee she was fantasizing about the vampire. Only Aldric suspected that she had stronger than normal feelings, but it was inconceivable to him that they could actually be love.

And then her fantasy had become reality, and she was now bonded to Spike. She suddenly sat up, anticipating another spell. Minutes went by, and the feeling went away, replaced by a wave of sadness.

"No!" Lydia didn't realize that she'd cried out until a sleepy Aldric appeared at her bedside. She took hold of her and wiped her tears with his palm.

"What is it? What's happened?" She shook her head.

"I don't know, something wrong. We're...he's sad, I think he lost a friend." At Aldric's look of alarm, she quickly amended. "Not one of the seven, some other kind of friend, someone we...he cared about very much. But he's determined he'll win her back." Aldric's face was a mask of gloom.

"It's already begun. I'm losing you."


	8. Spike Gets Carried Away

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss Whedon and Co. I did create a few originals here and there but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free!

************************************** 

"Don't be daft. You're not losing me." Aldric shook his head bitterly at her dismissive declaration.

"Lydia, I love you, but I know more than you do about these things. Bonding spells...they change people, even temporary ones. This has already gone too far. I need to see the ritual you used, see if there's still time to stop this."

"Aldric, no! I will not void the bonding. We need to do this." This time Lydia was firm and composed, secure in her own mind that she was right. "What I am doing, right now, is the most important thing I've ever done. If we never do anything else, we will have saved these people, and they're good, decent people who have put their own lives on the line again and again to save the world from annihilation. How can you ask us to stop? If we allow you to break this spell their lives may be forfeit." Aldric put his hands over his eyes, knowing he would never be able to convince his sister to do what he knew was necessary. *Everything she's worked for, her sanity, her very soul in the balance...and I can do nothing to stop her.*

************************************** 

The Watcher's Council Building was dark and quiet and bitterly cold. This was necessary for storage of many of the antiquities and enchanted items. There were always some people about, but at this late hour it was quiet and had the feel of a cavernous mausoleum, he thought gloomily as he picked up the phone and exchanged brief pleasantries. This call was risky, but necessary. Everything was coming together, but they were at a critical point. Nothing could go wrong now.

"Has it been taken care of?" The voice on the phone was crackling with static and barely audible. It made him wince. *I hate those airplane phones, give me a headache.*

"Not yet, but soon." He had to repeat himself several times, afraid to raise his voice and risk being heard.

"It had better be soon, you know what's at stake." Despite the gravity of the situation, he had to smile, albeit grimly.

"No pun intended, I'm sure." The man on the plane sighed. He had often been told he had no sense of humor, and at times like this he knew that indeed he did not. Developing a sense of humor was a useless, indulgent enterprise, and he had no interest in it.

"This is no laughing matter. Make sure everything is taken care of before I arrive. No suspicion must be placed on me, do you understand?"

"Of course. What about Lydia?" A long pause and static greeted his question, and then the explosion of an almost shouted reply.

"You said Lydia wasn't a problem!"

"She has made no move to contact either Giles or Buffy Summers, she's being watched and the phones are tapped. She's made no calls. But if Aldric is involved, we can't be certain..."

"If need be, I'll handle Lydia. You handle the rest." The coldness of his tone seemed to drop the temperature in the room even further, and the man shivered and swallowed hard.

"What will you do?" Again a long static-filled pause. "Hello, are you still there?"

"I'll do whatever is necessary. To stop Lydia or anyone else who gets in the way."

**************************************  


Spike had quickly found that the stolen Cloak of Darkness was more trouble than it was worth at a college party. Drunken students kept nearly bumping into him, and several frat boys had spilled their beer on him already. He slipped out to the small porch on the side of the Commons and stuffed the cloak behind one of the potted plants. Straightening up, he looked around to make sure none of the students had noticed this or that he had suddenly appeared, and was glad to see that the porch was deserted. 

*This may be a good place to bring Willow's girl, or Xander,* he thought speculatively. It was fairly secluded, and while not without risk, it was the most private place he'd found thus far. Glancing back inside, he saw that Buffy and her friends had just arrived together. Buffy and Willow were greeting some women, obviously chums from school, and Xander had immediately pulled Anya to him to dance. He was amazed at his good fortune. Tara had wandered in his direction, and was admiring some kind of decoration that was hanging just outside the door. Spike stole one quick look at the other Scoobies, and when none of them were looking -

"Mmmmph!" Tara tried to cry out when the hands unexpectedly grabbed her, but the one over her mouth kept her from making a sound loud enough to be heard over the party music. The coldness of the hands made panic set in. *Oh, God, vampire, vampire, oh Willow, Buffy, anybody, help me!!!!* 

She was pulled outside and shoved behind some plants into a corner, and only then did she see who had taken her. Her expression shifted from terror to confusion to annoyance and back to less fear. Spike moved his face close to hers so he could talk to her in a low tone.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you, you know that I can't, right?" At her quick nod of agreement, he continued, "I just needed to talk to you, just for a-yeeow!!" The last came when Tara suddenly bit two of his fingers. He instinctively pulled his hand from her mouth and she instantly started to scream. He jammed his hand back over her mouth before she could manage more than a short shriek. Spike pressed her further back into the corner while glancing around wildly to see if anyone had heard. After a few tense moments, he looked back at her again. 

"Don't do that again, or I might have to bite you back." Tara's expression showed her contempt for that statement. "Well, I would, if it weren't for the bloody chip, now wouldn't I? Now I'm going to let you go, promise not to scream again?" Sudden inspiration struck. "I need to tell you something, it's about Willow, and it's really, really important." At the mention of Willow's name, Tara nodded vigorously, and Spike released her. As he reached into his pocket for the crystal, Tara grabbed his other arm anxiously.

"W-what about Willow? Is s-something going to h-happen?" Spike held the Stone of Mnemosyne in front of her face and she looked at it, puzzled. "Is Willow-"

"You Will Forget." Spike picked up the fourth talisman and placed it on Tara's forehead, then pulled the dazed girl into his arms. As with Willow, he felt power emanating from her, but it was not as vibrant and strong, more like the pull of a slow flowing river. It felt oddly peaceful. He closed his eyes, smelling orchids laced with strawberries, and gathered himself. Feeling Lydia's mind had joined him, he took an unneeded breath.

"Oops, dude, sorry! Didn't realize this corner was in use! My bad." Spike turned his head to see a boy in an atrocious Hawaiian shirt pulling an obviously tipsy brunette coed behind him. The boy's face was as red as his hair. The girl was stroking his arm, weaving on her feet.

"Well, damn right it's occupied! Find your own corner and leave us to our business."

"Keith, leshgo." The girl mumbled, pulling at him, and the two headed back inside. Spike put his face back in Tara's hair. *Too close, too close.* He felt Lydia's calming presence almost immediately, and as he closed his eyes again, he could see her face. It was starting to feel natural to see her, as if she had always been there like this, another part of himself. They began to chant the petition as one.

"I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true."

Spike didn't know the witch very well, but that peaceful energy was comforting. *I know they need her, don't let her die.* The smell of sage and rosemary once again wafted on the wind, and Spike and Lydia sighed from different parts of the world. It was all coming together, and at that moment they felt like nothing could stop them.

Willow had noticed that Tara was missing a few minutes ago, and now the Scoobies were searching the party for her with varying degrees of concern. Xander and Anya stopped Keith and his girlfriend as they were coming back inside.

"Hey man, we're missing a friend, you didn't see a girl out there about yeah high, dark blonde ponytail, pretty with big doe eyes?" Anya glared at Xander's description.

"Pretty? You think Tara's pretty?" When Xander rolled his eyes at her, she quickly added. "Of course you do, because she is very...pleasing...I am not threatened, because you love me." Xander had basically ignored this statement because he was waiting on the couple to answer his question.

"There's a girl out there, I'm not sure what color her hair is, she's making out with some guy." 

"Thanks, man." Xander nodded and stepped aside to let them pass.

"That's not Tara, she's very gay," Anya piped up loudly, but the couple had already walked away. Seeing Willow waving for their attention, Xander took Anya's arm and dragged her in that direction.

"Any luck?" Willow asked, real alarm in her voice. The others shook their heads as Buffy walked up. "Buffy?"

"It's a big place, Will," Buffy said comfortingly. "She's here somewhere, we'll find her, or she'll find us." Although they were searching the room for any sign of their friend, none of them saw Spike slip back inside the party. 

"Y-you don't think, a vampire might have, have grabbed her, because this isn't somebody's home, they wouldn't have to be invited, this is a common place, it's called the Commons, you don't get more common than that, and she could have been taken, couldn't she, I mean she was there one second, and then the next she was gone, and oh, God, Buffy-"

"Hey, what's going on?" At the sound of Tara's voice and the feel of the hand on her shoulder, Willow whirled and gathered her girlfriend in her arms, giving her a very passionate, very public kiss. Buffy sighed in relief. Seeing Xander watching their two friends with a glazed expression, she elbowed him in the ribs. 

"Xander, come dance with me. Before I have to hurt you, or your girlfriend does." Xander tore his eyes away from the kiss to look down at Buffy, then at Anya, both glaring at him. He gave them a sheepish grin as Willow released Tara.

"Wow, honey, what-" Tara began dreamily.

"Tara, where have you been? We've been looking everywhere, I thought something happened."

"I was...mingling, and then I went...outside, I guess I needed air for a second. I didn't think I was out there that long." Tara didn't actually remember going out on the porch, in fact she didn't remember arriving at the party at all. Thinking about Willow's strenuous denials about having a reason to go to the loft in the Magic Box that morning, she began to wonder if something strange wasn't going on. *I don't want to worry Willow about it, though, she's already upset. Not until I know something's wrong.* She let Willow bring her to the refreshment table as Xander took Buffy onto the dance floor. After getting drinks for Willow and Anya, and studiously avoiding the leers of some of the more drunken fraternity brothers, they watched Xander dance with the Slayer. Unseen by them, Spike was watching the same thing, his eyes narrowing.

A short while later, Spike watched as Buffy coyly approached and flirted with another man, this one the same one he had seen her talking to at the Bronze. *Looks like another boy like Captain Cardboard. This one doesn't even seem that manly. And what kind of shirt is that? That's just horrible.* The boyish man walked away, and now Buffy was all alone, waiting. Vulnerable. Approachable. Spike hesitated. He knew what would happen if he went over there. Buffy was really angry with him still about the kidnapping, and that business with Dru, and she would make sure he knew how furious she was. The fire would be in her eyes as she told him to stay away. Her nostrils would flare ever so slightly with distaste. He closed his eyes, a small shiver of anticipation running through him. The image of Lydia's face frowned at him disapprovingly. *This has nothing to do with your prophecy, pet. Stay out of it!* he thought to her. He wasn't sure if she could understand him, but the image went away. Spike licked his lips and headed over to her. He watched her for a few moments before stepping up next to her. She turned and looked at him stonily, with the hatred he had known he would see.

"Small world." Spike smirked. She stared daggers at him, saying nothing. "Oh dear, if looks could stake. Are you having fun, pet? Trolling for your next ex? Gotta say, you could do better." *Ah, yes, there's the fire, the hatred, God I love you Buffy.*

"I told you I wo-"

"You think I was gonna leave town? Free country. Free party." He reached into a nearby snack bowl nonchalantly. Maybe he could actually get her to grab him, push him, hit him, touch him. "You want me to leave you can put your hands on my hot tight little body and make me." He popped a piece of the snack in his mouth and chewed, waiting. *Hmmm, salty.*

"Get away from me." Buffy's spit out the words through teeth clenched as tightly as her fists. She was maintaining control, not moving towards him. Oh, well. Another time. They stared at each other a moment longer, then Spike inclined his head and moved away from her, enjoying the knowledge that she would watch him go. 

When he looked back, though, he was disappointed to see that the stupid boy in the stupid shirt had come back. *Drat. Oh God, is that...his number? Buffy don't take it!* He saw her take the scrap of paper tentatively, he could tell she was nervous but interested. They talked for a bit more, then Buffy smiled at the loser. *That's it then, two can play this, Slayer. How will you feel when I hook up with a bird of my own?* He moved through the crowd hastily, approaching an extremely attractive girl standing where he knew Buffy would have a good view.

"And who are you, darlin'?" he asked loudly, looking across the room at Buffy. *Ah, you looked, Buffy, you can't help yourself.* The pretty girl looked at him earnestly.

"I'm April. I'm looking for my fella." *Quaint turn of phrase, this is a queer bird. But she's certainly pretty enough to make Buffy squirm.*

"Maybe you just found him," he answered in his sexiest voice.

"Really? Where?" Spike leaned in to her and whispered in her ear.

"Why don't you let me be your fella, luv? I'll kiss you for days and make your blood boil."

What happened next was a blur. The girl pulled away from him snarling, and grabbed his shirt. His feet left the ground, he heard her shout something about not being her boyfriend, and then he was flying through the air. He felt glass shatter as he flew through the window, and landed hard outside. He winced at the feel of new cuts on this hands and face. His hand automatically went to his pocket to make sure his magick possessions were safe. Assured, he stood shakily and looked back through the now empty window frame at the girl and the gaping partygoers behind her. 

"Bloody hell! You threw me through a window!" He stared at her incredulously. "What's that about?"

"You cannot make those suggestions to me. I have a boyfriend. Warren is my boyfriend." Spike began to feel angry. Buffy had rejected him, this weird girl had thrown him through a window, the Watcher had somehow gotten stuck in his head. It was all too much.

"Know what? My bleedin sympathies to Warren!" He limped away with the little dignity he had left, heading for his crypt. *That's it. I'm calling it a night. There's still two days left to get this bleedin prophecy averted, and I don't know if I even care to do it anymore. Like Buffy deserves to be happy after the way she's treated...bloody hell!* His mind instantly flooded with the painful images of three deaths, particularly Dawn's, and Buffy's tearstained face. He was driven to his knees in anguish.

"I'll save them! I will! For God's sake, stop it!" He cried out into the night, and the feeling instantly went away. He took a moment to gather himself, then stood up and traveled the rest of the way home without exhibiting any emotion at all. Somehow he knew that half a world away, Lydia was weeping for the both of them.

Feedback, please!


	9. Lydia Uses a New Trick

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss and Co. I did create a few originals here and there but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free! 

************************************** 

It wasn't until after he had limped all the way back to his crypt that Spike realized that he had left behind the Cloak of Darkness. Furious, he whirled about in a fit of temper throwing anything his hands came in contact with against the wall. The sound of breaking ceramic told him that he'd just destroyed his favorite blood-drinking mug. The tantrum over as suddenly as it had begun, he collapsed into a chair. 

"Oh, bloody hell!" He exclaimed, his voice muffled by his hands over his face. *I don't want to go back there, but I need that Cloak. I only have two days left and I still have to put a whammy on Junior, the kid and the great brooding one.* He lurched to his feet with a groan and stomped back into the night. 

A short while later Spike was back looking through the empty window frame. Most of the party guests, with the exception of a few stragglers and people cleaning up, had already cleared out. *That'll make this easier, I'll just nip in, grab the Cloak, nip out and no one will be the wiser...* 

"Hey, aren't you that dude?" Spike turned and glared at the speaker, a scrawny boy with stringy hair who was now nodding. "You are. You're the dude that flew through that window. Man, what did you say to the freaky chick?" 

Spike was tempted to see how much pain the chip would cause him if he grabbed the boy in a headlock, but kept walking instead. He managed to make it to the corner where he had worked the spell on Tara before without further incident. *Just grab the...Cloak...where is it?* Spike looked around, realizing instantly that the Cloak was no longer where he had left it. 

"Damn, damn, it's gone!" He stood motionless for a second, uncertain what he should do now. The Cloak could have been picked up by anyone. There was no way he was going to be able to recover it now. He was on his way out when his acute hearing picked up the sound of Xander's voice coming from another room. He couldn't make out what he was saying, but he was pretty sure he had heard his own name. Following the sound, he found a hiding place where he was close enough to hear, but could do so unobserved. 

"...not sure this is a Code Red, guys. Is there a Code Pink? We need more codes." he heard Willow's voice say. The next voice made him smile. Buffy. 

"Fine. We find Warren tomorrow." *So they're after the guy that girl was looking for. Wonder what he did?* Spike thought to himself as Buffy continued. "Tonight I better go rescue Giles. He's watching Dawn while Mom's on her date, and I get the feeling there's only so much he can take." He could hear her wry amusement. 

"Giles and Dawny? I bet they ended up having a blast!" Tara interjected, and Spike smirked to himself. *Yeah, right. That's what happened. I'm sure they did each other's hair and giggled and made popcorn and had oh so much teen time fun. Almost wish I was there to see it, he must be over the bend by now.* He pushed himself further back into the shadows in anticipation of their leaving. But instead Spike heard a morose voice he did not recognize. 

"You guys ready to go? I want to lock up, not that it'll do much good." Unseen by Spike, the Scoobies were all looking at Nestor Lowell, the student who had been the main organizer of the party. He knew that the damage to the Commons that had happened at the party was coming down on his head, and his head hung in dejection. Willow, with her natural empathy, went to him and put her hand on his arm. 

"I'm sure the administration will understand about the window, Nestor. It was an accident." Nestor shook his head. 

"I'm not sure I understand about the window. What was up with that girl and that guy, were they tag team wrestlers or something?" The others looked at each other and shrugged. 

"That...might be it. I bet that was it," Buffy enthusiastically agreed. This thought didn't comfort Nestor at all. 

"It doesn't matter. I asked around, no one knew either one of them. They don't go to school here. Just a couple of stupid townies." Anya gripped Xander's arm as his expression darkened. Nestor went on unaware that he had just insulted two of the people to whom he was talking. "This is going to come out of my pocket. I took responsibility for any damage from this party. My dad's going to skin me alive." 

"Not literally. I think," Xander whispered in Anya's ear at her intrigued look. 

"Maybe we know somebody who could help," Willow said slowly, looking at Xander. He looked back at her blankly at the same moment Nestor had looked at her with a glimmer of hope. "Like a really, really good carpenter who might, as a personal favor, be able to do the job for, let's say, half what he would normally charge. Plus the cost of materials, of course." 

"Really? That would be so great!" Four females eyeing him meaningfully was more than Xander Harris could stand, he instantly crumbled. 

"Yeah, man. I'll give you an estimate, but I can't get to the job till tomorrow night." Nestor wore a huge smile of relief, and Xander couldn't help but grin back. After an exchange of phone information, Nestor snapped his fingers as if remembering something. 

"Wait, while we were cleaning up, Jackie found something. Do any of you recognize this?" He reached into his backpack and took something out. The Scoobies stared. 

"What is it?" Tara asked slowly. Spike's heart sank. *Please tell me it's not-* 

"I dunno, it looks like a big cape with a hood or something. It's weird." 

"It's mine!" Anya's sharp tone told Spike that she had recognized the Cloak of Darkness, and it was best if he go. Now. Quickly. He could hear her talking loudly as he hastened away. "I was wondering where I put it, darned cloak, always losing it, Xander's always reminding me, 'Don't forget your cloak!' but I always do. Please give it to me now." They all stared at Anya in confusion, but Xander quickly backed her up. 

"Yup, there it is, that's Anya's...scary dark cape thing...what would we do without it? I'm so glad it's not lost...again. She needs it for her secret identity as the Caped Avenger-oops, I guess that cat's no longer in the bag. Thanks for finding it, man." Nestor looked uncertain, but at the other's nods, he handed the cloak to Anya, who clutched it possessively. They all walked out as a group and waving goodbye to Nestor headed towards Xander's car. 

"Explanation for that?" Buffy asked in a low tone, in case they could still be overheard. Anya gestured with the cloak in her arms. 

"It's a Cloak of Darkness. Big time magick. Giles just noticed we had one missing. You realize what this means. Someone at that party was a shoplifter!" Anya spit out the last word as if it were a particularly vile form of demon. 

"What does it do, other than make an I'm-a-big-fan-of-Andrew-Lloyd-Webber fashion statement?" Buffy asked curiously. They had reached the car. 

"When you're wearing one, you're effectively invisible. I told Giles that he needs to lock them up in the back, but oh no, he doesn't listen to me. 'No one can get into the loft without being seen,' he says, and we all know that's not true, don't we?" The last was said with a pointed gesture at Willow, who scowled and opened her mouth to retort. Xander cut her off before a squabble could start. 

"Hey, do you think maybe this Warren guy took it, to avoid Robo-girlfriend?" 

"Nope, wouldn't work. The Cloak of Darkness only works when no one is looking for you. If they are they'll see you right away." 

"Huh? What good is that?" Xander snorted. 

"Well for one thing it's really good for shoplifting. The person who stole this could have robbed us blind and we'd never know the difference. We're planning on doing a complete inventory of the shop this weekend to see if anything else is missing." The friends made their goodbyes and Xander and Anya drove off to take Buffy home. 

Tara and Willow walked back to the dorm in silence. As they approached the dorm, Willow looked at Tara, saw she was lost in thought, and nudged her gently. 

"Huh-what?" 

"You're frowning." 

"I am?" 

"It's cute. It's a cute frown. But smiles are cuter, so we need to turn the frown upside down." Tara favored Willow with a small smile. "That's better, but...what's the matter?" 

"I'm not sure." The girls had reached their room and both flopped on the bed simultaneously. "What would you say if I told you that I don't remember getting to the party tonight." Willow immediately propped herself up on her elbows to look closely at her girlfriend. 

"That you had maybe too much to drink...except you didn't have anything to drink. Tara, did you have a blackout?" 

"No, not exactly. It was like...like tonight, when we were walking home. I was thinking about that Cloak, and who could have taken it, and about how you said I disappeared at the party, and about you in the Magic Box this morning, you know, how you didn't know why you were in the loft?" At Willow's nod, she continued. "So I was thinking about all that, and I was so preoccupied, you know, that I don't actually remember us walking home. It was like that, like I was daydreaming or thinking, except that I don't have a clue what I was thinking about. I can't remember." 

"That's how I felt this morning. Like I was waking up from a dream but I couldn't remember ...Tara, I'm scared. What's going on?" 

"It could be nothing." The girls looked at each other doubtfully. 

"Giles. We need Giles." Willow said, reaching for the phone. Tara put her hand on her arm gently. 

"It's really late. It'll keep till morning. I think this is, you know, Code Pink." Willow smiled at her, pleased despite her worry. 

"Okay, in the morning." 

************************************** 

Lydia looked out the window as she sipped her tea. She had gotten a few more hours of sleep and when she awakened Aldric was gone. She was looking at Colin's car, still parked across the street but in a different space. *I thought Aldric said he'd be out all night. Guess Colin has a stronger constitution than he thought.* She had dressed in one of her favorite suits and redone her hair several times. Now she was dawdling over her teacup because she knew that by the time she got to the Council building Alan would likely already have arrived. *One probably shouldn't dread seeing one's betrothed, especially when they've been half a world away for months, but God help me, I do.* With a sigh, she finally placed the cup in the sink and headed down to the street. She was only a few blocks from the Council and she planned on walking, but suddenly she found herself crossing the street. Almost as in in a dream she approached the car where Colin was now desperately trying to make himself invisible. As she approached he waved a nervous greeting.

"Hello, Lydia. Fancy meeting you here, I dare say it is a small world." Lydia smiled at him coldly.

"Smaller still when you park in front of my flat, Colin. What do you think you're doing?" Colin immediately dropped his friendly demeanor.

"It's really none of your business, my dear. Council orders from very high up." Colin's bravado faltered when he got a good look at Lydia's predatory sneer. She suddenly put her face up close to his as if she was moving in for a kiss, at the same time she plunged one arm into the car and seized his crotch in a vice-like grip, squeezing ever so slightly. "Lydia, for the love of God!" Colin squeaked.

"Colin, I thought you might want to hear some Council orders from very...low...down," Lydia whispered in his ear. Colin whimpered as she applied more pressure. "You won't be following me anymore. You're going to be leaving me alone. And you won't be reporting any of this back to the Council. No one would believe you if you did, of course. But you really don't want to get on my bad side, do you?" Colin shook his head violently, a tear streaming down his cheek.

"No, Lydia, please..." She released her grip just as suddenly, standing up and blowing him a kiss.

"It was lovely to see you again, Colin. But I know you have to be going now," she called, walking away a bit shakily. *What was that all about? I can't believe I just grabbed him by the...I mean, I never in my life...oh well, it was rather fun!* Lydia's face was red with embarrassment, but she practically skipped the rest of the way to the Watcher's Council.

A sense of somberness had returned to Lydia by the time she reached Quentin Traver's personal offices. Upon arriving she had received word that she was expected, and she knew that this meant it was likely Alan had arrived. As she reached up to knock on the door, she heard her name being frantically called from down the hall. She looked and saw Aldric running towards her, holding the Santiago Codex and looking positively grim.

"Aldric, what-"

"The wards," her brother panted, "Lydia, someone tampered with the wards, and the Codex, the prophecy is gone. The contraprophecy too, both gone!"

"Gone! How?" He flipped open the book to where the pages had been, showing her the blank parchment.

"Dark magick. I don't think it can be undone. Someone wanted to make certain that no one would use the Codex, Lydia. And they wanted it very badly."

"And just who would want to do such a thing?" a new voice asked dryly. The two turned and saw Alan Travers standing in the doorway, his uncle slightly behind him. "I mean, according to you it was the means to save Miss Summers. Except you never could figure out who the Dark Knight was meant to be, isn't that right? Once the Slayer's boyfriend decided to leave for parts unknown. there were no other candidates. Could be you just wanted to cover up another of your repeated failings." Aldric leaped at Alan, pinning him to the wall. Lydia gasped.

"Aldric, let him go!"

"You unbelievable bastard. You had a hand in this!" Aldric accused as he allowed Quentin and Lydia to pry him off of his future brother-in-law.

"But how could I, as I've only just arrived?" Alan spoke calmly, and Quentin glared at Aldric. Lydia tried to talk to him with her eyes. *Don't you see, they're trying to set you up, to make you look like you've become unhinged. Then no one will listen to anything you say!*

"That's a strong allegation, Aldric. And one for which you have no proof. I suggest you leave and calm down before you make yourself more the fool." Quentin's angry tone brooked no argument, and after exchanging one more conversation of glances with his sister, Aldric stormed off. The three watched him go, then Alan put his arms around Lydia from behind. She stiffened involuntarily, then forced herself to relax.

"Well, that's certainly not the reunion with my betrothed that I'd hoped for." Alan murmured softly in her ear. "Hello, dearest." Lydia allowed herself to be turned and kissed him softly.

"Alan. It's been too long." She hoped and prayed her lie sounded sincere. Upon settling in Quentin's office, they spoke for a time about assorted Council business, the health and well-being of Lydia's father and mother, and of course the progress of Sharonda Martin, the future Slayer that Alan had been monitoring in Australia. As soon as it could be considered remotely polite, Lydia excused herself to find Aldric. She searched the Council building, but he had vanished and she could find no one that had seen him. Gravely concerned, she returned to Quentin's office.

"No luck?" Alan asked, trying to sound considerate and failing miserably. Before she could answer, a woman's voice was heard.

"Mr. Travers!" It was Gillian, Quentin's secretary, her normally unflappable demeanor completely shattered. "Something terrible has happened!"

"If it's about the Santiago Codex, we've heard."

"No, no, it's so horrible. Colin Bixby's been murdered!"

Feedback, please! 


	10. Spike Searches His Feelings

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss and Co. I did create a few originals here and there but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free! 

************************************** 

Giles was surprised to hear the knock on the door of the Magic Box. The shop wasn't due to open for another couple of hours, and the gang wouldn't be meeting to discuss the new robot situation until then. *Perhaps Anya forgot her key.* Looking outside he saw Willow and Tara wearing identically apprehensive expressions. *Oh, dear. Don't tell me we have something else to worry about.* 

"Willow, Tara, has something happened?" The witches traded glances as they stepped inside, then turned to Giles.

"Not exactly," Tara started.

"We're not sure," Willow said at the same time. After another glance, Willow continued. "Something happened to Tara at the party last night, and we think there might be something strange going on."

"A new strange something. Different from all the other strange somethings," Tara added.

"Indeed, go on." Giles listened with interest as the girls told him of Tara's missing minutes in overlapping commentary.

"It happened to me too, Giles, before you found me in the loft yesterday." Willow looked vindicated when Giles nodded thoughtfully.

"And then there's the Cloak of Darkness-" Giles cut Tara off.

"The Cloak of Darkness? What about it?"

"It's right here," Anya said as she entered the shop with a sleepy Xander in tow. "I told you someone had stolen it. Did Willow tell you we found it at the party last night?"

"I believe she was about to...Anya, why don't you lock that up in my office? And maybe I should have you girls look at placing some wards on the loft, to detect intruders?"

"And shoplifters!" Anya called back sharply. "Something to hold them in place until we can have their hands cut off," she finished as she emerged from Giles' office. Xander cleared his throat.

"Anya, I don't think that the penalties for petty theft are quite that severe anymore." Anya looked disappointed. Giles decided that a return to the subject at hand was in order.

"Yes, well, Willow and Tara were just telling me about something they both experienced." Giles sketched out the situation with a few interjections from the girls. Xander looked puzzled and a bit worried, and Anya looked skeptical.

"Do you think this is some kind of wacky hellgoddess fun? You know, brain suckage lite?" Xander asked. The others all shook their heads.

"It's a bit subtle for Glory, she strikes me as a splashier girl. If she were involved I don't think she'd be so quiet about it," Willow replied.

"And, also, we're not insane," Tara added.

"And I think that I may have experienced something similar." Giles had been reflecting on that moment where Buffy had called to him in his office, and realized it was the same kind of experience. "The other night, when we were training with Buffy. If it had been Glory, the warning spell that Willow and Tara cast on the shop would certainly have been triggered."

"You did disappear for a while," Xander agreed slowly. "I remember Buffy went to look for you when the iceman didn't cometh."

"Yes, well, at the time I felt it was simple exhaustion, but now I'm not at all certain. Have either you or Anya experienced anything similar?" Xander shook his head emphatically, but Anya seemed suddenly uncertain.

"Yesterday morning...I was in the loft..." Anya said slowly.

"Yes, you were putting away the Etruscan idols," Giles replied.

"What Etruscan idols?" Anya asked. Giles stared at her.

"You don't remember, the statue of Tuchulcha, and two others?"

"You ordered a summoning idol for an Etruscan hell-demoness? Are you nuts?"

"No, I'm not - Anya, you don't remember having this conversation with me yesterday?"

"Giles, I would remember if we talked about Etruscan hell-demonesses, I mean I know a few things about-"

"So someone put the whammy on Anya too, is that what you're saying. This is bad, right, really bad, like we-need-Buffy bad?" Xander had put his arm around Anya possessively, and she smiled in delight. The others frowned and Tara shook her head uncertainly.

"I'm not sure that this...whatever it is...is really bad. I don't know how to explain it, it's just kind of a feeling, like there's something -"

"Warm," Giles said simply.

"Yes, I feel warm, too. Like a comfort kind of feeling." Willow's statement was met with nods from the others. "But it's just odd."

"Odd but not necessarily bad. Where do we catalog that, Giles?" Xander and the others looked up to see Buffy entering the shop, her expression alarmed as she saw the gang already assembled.

"Did something...Glory?" she asked. The others shook their heads collectively, and Buffy sighed in relief. "Just please don't tell me there's a new evil, I don't think I can take another evil in my life right now. My evil quota is completely filled."

************************************** 

"Oh, yeah, you're the big bad, Spike. Really evil."

Spike was still lamenting his strategic retreat of last night. *Should have gotten that Cloak back, I could have waited and gotten it back. Could have used that bloody crystal on the demon girl.* If he had a reflection, he'd be scolding it right now. Instead he had gone down to where he had put together his shrine to Buffy. Looking at it had always made him feel better in the past, but now it left him rather hollow and ashamed. Feelings that were way too human for a vampire. 

And to make it worse, he was doing this big knight in shining armor bit, going around saving people that by all right he should be trying to kill, all for the love of a woman who should be his mortal enemy. It was enough to plunge him into a full-fledged identity crisis, complete with brooding. Except that this made him feel way too much like his hated sire.

"Snap out of it, son. What's the next move?" He fingered Buffy's sweater lightly and thought about Dawn. He knew he'd be able to get to Junior that evening when he got went to fix the window in the Commons. After that he would head to LA and have a good twenty-four hours to find and zap Angel. That left little sis, and Spike knew she'd be tricky. *No one ever leaves that child alone, and I doubt she'll be paying me another visit to my crypt after..." He dropped the sweater in momentary disgust and headed back up to the crypt. Once there he lingered near the doorway briefly, carrying his trusty blanket.

"Guess I'd better go back to the Magic Box, see if I can find out where the girl's going to be at. And what's going on with Buffy and her pals and that bird from last night." As much as didn't want to admit it, there was a part of him that was looking forward to this encounter. He felt unexpected pleasure at the thought of seeing them, knowing that he was helping Buffy and saving their lives. He was starting to feel like maybe he was a part of it all, and he had the potential to be something more, more to them, more to Buffy. He closed his eyes and saw Lydia smiling in approval. *Then, on the other hand, maybe this is just a side effect of having a silly Watcher witch inside my head!* He gathered the blanket around himself and headed off at top speed as if he could outrun the sunlight.

************************************** 

Lydia once again sipped her tea near the window of her flat, but this time her gaze through the glass was unseeing. Instead she was replaying the incredibly upsetting events of the last few hours in her head.

Colin Bixby's murder had taken place within the confines of the Watcher's Council. This had been considered a stroke of luck by some, because it meant that police involvement could be mitigated through the Council attorneys and a judicious use of magick. Unfortunately, it also meant that there was no doubt that the murder had been committed by someone who was trusted enough to have been allowed in the Council building, perhaps even a Watcher. 

Colin's body had been found near the translation wing. The official cause of death was definitely the knife that had been buried in his chest up to the hilt, but there had been definite traces of some kind of magick surrounding him according to those who had been trained to detect those things. The same magick had wiped clean the security tapes for the entire day, so that there was no record of the murder. And Alan had deftly manipulated the situation so that suspicion had immediately begun flowing in her brother's direction. The fact that no one had been able to locate Aldric or the Santiago Codex since his altercation with Quentin's nephew hadn't helped matters. The only thing that had kept anyone from outright accusations against her brother was the lack of motive. While Aldric had made it clear that he had no like or respect of his dim-witted colleague, there had never been any real bad blood between them. And although none of them would admit it aloud out of deference to the Bixby family, no one felt that Colin would have had the ability to have damaged the Codex through magick.

After hours of questioning, Alan had brought Lydia back to her flat. She had begged off his offers to stay due to her exhaustion, and had been waiting ever since. Waiting for-

"Lydia."

"Aldric." His sudden appearance didn't surprise her in the least. It was an astral projection she knew, his actual body tucked away someplace he felt safe.

"We're alone?" There was something in his eyes and his tone that made Lydia begin to feel nervous, almost as if he were afraid of her. *Which is absurd.*

"Quite alone. Aldric, what happened?" 

"You don't remember? I came to ask you why!"

"Why? I don't understand. Why what?"

"Why you killed Colin Bixby! Lydia, I saw you kill him."

Feedback, please! 


	11. 

Disclaimer: All Buffy characters belong to Joss and Co. I did create a few originals here and there but I release them into the Buffyverse. Fly, be free! 

Author's Note: Flashbacks are indicated by brackets [ ].

************************************** 

"Aldric, have you gone mad? I did not kill Colin Bixby!" Lydia had sunk into the nearest chair, her legs rendered shaking and useless from the shock of her brother's accusation.

"Lydia, I saw you. You were calling me, he came up to you. You had words. He seemed frightened, which I thought was odd. He waved the dagger at you. I was afraid he was going to hurt you, and I was just coming to help you when you grabbed it from him and plunged it into his chest. Lydia, you were smiling when you did it. But when it was over you just walked away like nothing had happened. I used a spell to destroy the videotapes, grabbed the Codex and ran. I was hoping they'd believe it was me."

"I went looking for you, that part is true, but I never saw either you or Colin. After I looked everywhere I could think of I went back to Quentin's office. I was there with him when we got word about..." Lydia shook her head at her brother's dubious expression. "Aldric, something strange is going on here, but I swear I did not kill anyone."

"I know you believe that, but I'm afraid that you may no longer be aware of your actions. Lydia, it's the bonding spell. The vampire is taking over, and he's a ruthless killer. I fear it's too late to stop it now." Lydia felt her body begin to tighten with rising fury.

"There is no need. We're doing just fine!" She couldn't help but hear the angry note in her own voice. She forced herself to unclench her fists, and continued in a calmer tone. "We only have three more friends to save, and the bonding spell will be broken. I'm much more worried about you. Someone is out to destroy you, Aldric."

"We both know who is trying to injure me, dear sister. But he won't succeed. In fact, he's made his first big mistake." As worried as he was about Lydia, he couldn't suppress a smug grin at her look of confusion. "I know Alan was the one who arranged to have the Codex ruined. I had to make certain he believed he'd succeeded." It took a second for that to register with the young Watcher.

"The prophecies haven't been destroyed? But...you showed it to me." The image of her brother shook his head.

"I showed you the false book I had set up in its place. Alan's ambitions to be Watcher to the next Slayer are legendary. I feared that he might try something to keep anyone from using the contraprophecy, just as I know he turned his uncle against the idea of even trying to use it to help Buffy Summers. I took measures to protect it. It's safe with me."

Lydia sighed with relief. *At least that's one thing that hasn't gone horribly wrong.*

"You'll keep it safe?"

"Of course. I must go now, I've stayed too long. I'll be back later. Do me a favor, lock your doors and go nowhere until we speak again." Lydia nodded absently as her brother's image vanished.

*I can't believe he wants to lock me up like I'm some kind of lunatic. But still, there's the mystery of Colin Bixby's murder, and why my own brother believes I committed it. I couldn't have done it, could I?* She was astonished to find that there was a glimmer of doubt in her own mind. *If it is possible, if I am capable of that, who knows what else I might be capable of? I must know for certain, before something else happens.*

************************************** 

Spike hugged his knees to his chest, feeling more and more cramped in his hiding place. *Why am I doing this? Why, I ask myself again? Soddin ungrateful brat doesn't deserve it, none of them do.* He tried not to think about it, but his mind couldn't help but drift back to the scene at the Magic Box a few hours before. Their hostile voices echoed in his mind...

__

["You're not welcome here..."

"...we're working on a way to deinvite you..."

"Can we throw him through the window like the robot did?"

"Get away from me!"

"I think you'd better go."

"We are not your friends. We are not your way to Buffy. There is no way to Buffy."]

Spike realized he had put his hands over his ears as if he could block the voices out. He removed them and discovered that there were other voices approaching, one of which was the one he was waiting for.

"Dawn, I don't believe you!" Spike heard one teenage girl exclaim as they moved towards and then over his hiding place.

"I can't believe you're not going to say something to him!" another girl's voice chimed in incredulously.

"I can't. It's too embarrassing. I'd die!" Dawn spoke with melodramatic emphasis that only a fourteen-year-old could manage. Three sets of footsteps echoed as they entered the door marked WOMEN, and Spike made his move. He crawled through the cramped space until he was directly beneath the grating on the floor of the ladies' bathroom, and listened once more. The girls chatted and giggled as they fixed their hair and touched up their lip gloss. Slowly he began to recite a spell that would compel Dawn to stay. It didn't even occur to him to wonder where he knew that spell from, it just came to him. The other two girls moved towards the exit, then turned as they noticed Dawn still staring in the mirror.

"You coming, Dawnie?" one of her friends asked.

"Go on without me, I'll catch up in a sec," Dawn answered dreamily. The two girls looked at each other, than shrugged and left, the door swinging shut behind them. As soon as Spike was certain they were gone, he removed the grating and pulled himself up. Dawn turned to him, still wearing that faraway expression, then abruptly her eyes cleared.

"You! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, nibblet." Dawn had her hands on her hips in total outrage.

"This is the GIRLS' room, Spike! You can't be in here! It's...it's..."

"Against the law?" Spike smirked.

"Perverted and gross!" she answered. She began backing away from him, and he realized she was about to go flying out the door. He moved with vampiric speed to block her exit, locking the door in the process.

"I just need to talk to you, girl."

"What are you doing? I'll scream Spike, I swear I will if you don't let me out right now! Buffy'll stake you twice for this!"

"Once would do the trick, but I don't see why we have to bring big sis into this at all. This is just between you and me, because we're pals, right? I know you're a bit upset with me, but that doesn't mean you don't remember the fun you and I had, with the storytelling and the breaking and entering. I certainly do."

Dawn stared at him for a moment, then her face crumbled and she dissolved into tears. Spike was completely nonplussed, this was the last thing he had expected to happen and he had no idea what to do.

"Y-yes, I th-thought you were my f-f-friend, but y-you h-hurt m-my s-s-s-sister!" Spike sighed.

"I didn't mean to, Dawn. It's complicated. Cheer up, now. I brought you something. A present, to make up for how rotten I've been." Dawn looked up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears and her breath still hitching from her sobs.

"A p-present?" Spike quickly took the memory crystal from his pocket and held it before her eyes. "Wow, it's really pretty!"

"Yes, isn't it, pet? You Will Forget."

************************************** 

Lydia awoke suddenly as she felt the now familiar tingle of the spell beginning. She closed her eyes and saw the girl, Buffy's sister, through the vampire's eyes. She felt him place his arms around Dawn Summers. Together they recited the words of the petition to the Amagandar.

"I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line..."

************************************** 

"...I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true."

Spike finished the petition, his arms wrapped firmly but lightly around the slender form of the young girl. She felt so fragile to him, like the slightest squeeze would shatter her into a million pieces. *So hard to believe you're not a real girl,* he thought, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. *But then you are, aren't you, in every way that counts. You're her sister, you mean everything to her. And I care about what happens to you, Dawn. I want you to be okay.* Smelling the familiar scents that told him he had been successful, he released Dawn and sat back, smiling. A minute later a loud banging was heard on the door. Spike looked around in panic. *Can't unlock the door without getting caught, and if they catch me in here with the girl there's no explanation on earth that will keep either Buffy or Joyce from staking me.* He slipped down into his crevice and replaced the grating above him. After another minute of the yelling and banging on the door, another spell suddenly entered his mind. Closing his eyes, he saw Lydia nodding at him. *Okay, but this better work.* Concentrating hard, he managed to turn the lock just as the woman at the door gave one last huge push. This caused her to unceremoniously tumble into the room, hitting the tile floor hard. Spike had to bite his tongue to stifle his laughter. Dawn's back was to him, but he could tell she had just come out of her trance state by the sudden intake of breath. She reached down and helped the woman to her feet.

"Mrs. Mullins, what happened?" The woman looked at Dawn, her face turning purple with embarrassment and anger.

"Dawn Summers, why didn't you answer me when I called? And why did you lock this door?" Dawn had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she also had no interest in sitting in detention for a week because of that. She thought fast.

"I did answer you, Mrs. Mullins, you must not have heard me. And the door was stuck, I've been hoping someone would come." Mrs. Mullins looked suspicious still, but Dawn gave her best innocent look. The woman gave a big harrumph, hardly mollified but unable to form a good argument against Dawn's version.

"I thought I heard another voice in here. A male voice." She sniffed the air. "And what's that smell? Smells like some kind of herb."

*Great,* Dawn groaned to herself, *now she thinks I'm bringing boys into the bathroom and doing drugs. This just keeps getting better.* To the teacher she merely shrugged.

"I'm the only one in here, as you can see, and as for the smell, maybe they're using a new air freshener. I like it, it kind of smells like Thanksgiving or something."

Spike was relieved as the teacher escorted Dawn from the bathroom, he knew he could no longer hold in his laughter. *Now that's what I need after the day I've had!* He sobered as he thought about the box of Buffy's things that he had put in his car. *The Watcher's right, I've got to move on, but I still have to help the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder, much as they don't at all deserve my help. If that doesn't prove I love you, Buffy, then what will?*

************************************** 

Lydia's mind returned to her flat filled with the giddy euphoria that always accompanied successful completion of the spell. 

"Yes, yes, yes, we did it, saved another one, we've almost saved them all!" she exclaimed, laughing with unrestrained glee. *The look on that woman's face when the door opened and she fell in, that was simply priceless.*

"Saved another what, my dear?" The sound of the nearby voice felt like ice water in her veins. She turned and found herself eye to eye with Alan Travers. "Or should I say, saved another who?"

Feedback, please! 


	12. 

Disclaimer: Oh, you know the drill by now...not mine!

**************************************

Lydia decided instantly that her best defensive move was to go on the offensive.

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Alan? And how did you get in my flat?" His eyes widened in surprise at her hostile tone. He gave her a cold smile.

"I wanted to check on you, dearest. I knocked, when you didn't answer I got concerned, so I used a little spell to unlock the door. And I find you...having an odd conversation with..." He trailed off meaningfully.

"I don't want to play games with you, Alan. You know very well who I was talking to," Lydia snapped. This was a gamble, but she needed to know what he thought he'd heard and was hoping Alan would rise to the bait. He did not disappoint her.

"Yes, you're quite right. And how is your dear brother?" It took all of her acting skills not to show her relief. Instead she glared at her fiancee, pretending that he was right. *He knows nothing, but he thinks he knows everything. Let his ego do the work for you, pet.* It never occurred to Lydia to question why the thoughts in her own head sounded so much like the voice of the blonde vampire.

"Do you really care if I answer that?" Alan gave a short laugh.

"My, but you've gotten cheeky in my absence, dearest! And I must say that your ability to communicate telepathically with your brother comes as something of a shock. But you're right, of course. I care not the tiniest bit how Aldric is, but I do care very much where he is and what he's up to. Especially since the Santiago Codex is most likely with him." Lydia turned her back to him and crossing her arms across her chest, went to the window. She saw no signs of any other Watchers on the street below, but that meant nothing. Not everyone was as clumsy as the unfortunately deceased Colin Bixby had been.

"I have no idea where my brother is." Lydia felt him move across the room towards her. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, she had to fight the urge to shake him off. She concentrated on taking deep breaths. *When this is all over, I'll make sure you never touch me again.*

"But you know what he's doing. And you're going to tell me, aren't you, Lydia? As the man you're to wed, I do believe that your first loyalty is to me." When she shook her head, he whirled her around angrily.

"I don't-"

"You're the one who said no games, Lydia. I believe that your brother has turned against the Council, and is responsible for Colin Bixby's murder. I heard you when I came in, something about 'saving them.' Has Aldric found a way to use the contraprophecy against the Council's orders?" 

Alan's hands began squeezing tighter on her shoulders. Lydia was amazed at the wave of contempt that washed over her. *Right. Council orders that would never have been made if not for your influence. This is about your ambition, nothing more. She looked down and shook her head violently, acting scared and vulnerable. If Alan could have looked in her eyes at that moment, they would have told a very different story.

"No, Aldric wouldn't...he isn't...he would have told me!" Alan reached out and wrenched her chin upwards, forcing her gaze to meet his. He sneered at her.

"You're lying to me, I heard you-"

"We were playing a game. We've been playing it since we were children. Aldric made up the rules, you try to save the princesses from a dragon. He wanted to cheer me up, I was so upset about Colin. It had nothing to do with any prophecies or contraprophecies or Slayers." Lydia was herself amazed at the reasonably convincing lie and the tears she managed to accompany it. She had always been a horrible liar, and that fact alone might be enough to convince Alan. Already he looked like he was reconsidering his assumptions.

"A game. I see." He looked uncertain, and Lydia went in for the figurative kill.

"Alan, you know I would never go against the Council's orders, and I know that Aldric feels the same. But that's not the point. I would never go against you. You're going to be my husband. I love my brother, but I'm totally devoted to you." She could tell by the release of tension in his shoulders that he believed her completely. *I've never been anything but supportive and compliant to his will, why wouldn't he believe me? He still thinks he can manipulate me, the stupid wanker.*

"Of course you are, as I am to you, my dear. And the game you describe does sound just like Aldric. Always wanting to play the white knight...or perhaps the Dark." That last aside told Lydia that while he now was sure she had no knowledge of it, Alan still believed that Aldric was using the contraprophecy in some way. She said a quick prayer that her brother was in a safe place and that he would stay there until this was all over.

"You know my brother," she replied noncommittally.

"This was not the visit I anticipated having with you. I wanted to make sure that that you were handling this business with Bixby all right." She shuddered, and this time it wasn't for dramatic effect. That Aldric was so certain she had murdered a man was still weighing heavily upon her.

"It's so horrible. His family...they must be devastated. And to think that someone in the Council..." Alan put his arms around her, and she forced herself to relax into the embrace.

"Shhh, I'm sorry I even mentioned such an unpleasant matter. I really wanted to talk to you about a much happier affair."

"What?"

"Our wedding. I think it's time that we set a date for the nuptials, don't you?" Lydia almost moaned in dismay. This was the last subject she wanted to discuss now. He continued without waiting for a response. "I've spoken with your father and we're in agreement. We should be wed before year's end." A slow smile crossed Lydia's face, and if he could have seen it at that moment Alan might have been frightened. It was an assassin's smile. But the expression he saw as they broke from their embrace was simply bright and joyful.

"Oh, Alan, it's brilliant! You've made me so happy. But there's so much to plan and to do! If we're to be wed this year, it will have to be November, perhaps even December." Alan nodded in satisfaction. The details of the wedding had no interest for him, as long as she was willing to go along with him.

"A holiday wedding then. It sounds very...festive. We'll firm up the arrangements tomorrow, right now I want you to get some rest. You look totally done in."

"Yes, you're right, I'm very tired." The goodnight kiss he gave her was almost chaste. After she had seen him out, she set wards on the apartment as her brother had taught her. *Aldric, wherever you are, stay there. Alan mustn't find you until we've finished this mission.*

**************************************

Aldric's safe haven was the home of a friend that not even his sister knew about. As much as he relished the role of the black sheep within his family, he feared what they would do if they knew of his association with Janice. He wasn't sure which they would find more scandalous: her profession as an exotic dancer or that her father had been a Bracken demon. Janice could be very calculating and would do almost anything for money, but she was also good-hearted and unfailingly loyal to her friends, of which Aldric had been for years. His relationship with her was flirtatious but platonic, although he had to admit to himself that he sometimes wished it might be more. When he fled the Watcher's Council, she was the first person he'd thought of, and the only person he knew would let him in without asking questions. Janice had made him quite comfortable before she'd left for work.

Unsettled after his astral-projection visit with Lydia, Aldric had absently decided to look through the Codex again. *Maybe there's some mention in here about my sister and her dilemma that I've missed. Prophecies are tricky businesses after all, and even one's we think we have dead to rights can sometimes yield new secrets with a fresh look.* 

A few hours later, he rubbed his eyes wearily. *There's nothing, it's all just as I remember it, no mention of Lydia at all, only the Dark Knight and the Followers of the Slayer, nothing...* His attention was suddenly drawn to one passage.

"Wait, this isn't right...how could I have missed that? My God, that changes...Lydia, I've got to warn her!" A soft noise behind him warned him that he was no longer alone. He never even had a chance to turn before a blow to the head rendered him unconscious.

**************************************

Spike watched from the shadows as Xander put the finishing touches on the window repair. Part of him was still shocked that he was even here. He had packed a bag and a box for his even more unbelievable upcoming excursion to Los Angeles. *The things I do for you Buffy, not that you know or care...* He had hoped to avoid seeing the Slayer again until his task was done, it was just too hard, but discovered upon arriving at the Commons that Buffy had accompanied Xander to his task this evening. She had gone to make a quick patrol on campus a few minutes ago. Once he was certain that she wouldn't be returning soon, he crept up slowly until he was standing behind the boy. Surprise was an understatement for what he felt when Xander suddenly whirled, holding a stake to Spike's chest.

"Spike. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't strike a blow for sanity here." Spike raised his arms in surrender as he shrugged in grudging admiration.

"I'm really impressed. Heard me coming, had a lovely stake all ready for me. Are you that good or am I losing my touch?" This time Xander shrugged, but the wood in his hand remained pointed steadily at the vampire's heart.

"Benefits of being a carpenter, plenty of wood around when you need to do some dusting, and the little shavings tend to crunch under foot. You went crunch. And flattery isn't an answer to my question."

"I have information. That is very important, for the Slayer. I'm here to tell you because I'm supposed to be leaving the Slayer alone, and I am. See? I can play nice, how about you?" Xander reluctantly removed his stake from its position over Spike's chest, but kept his arm half-raised, ready to strike.

"What information? And let me warn you, you sorry excuse for a bloodsucker, this had better be really, really good, because I don't mind fixing this window twice tonight if it means I have the pleasure of tossing you through it myself." Spike put his arms down slowly and reached into his pocket with exaggerated care. He withdrew the Stone of Mnemosyne and held it aloft by the chain.

"Ever seen one of these before, champ? Look close." Xander moved in, curious despite himself.

"What is it?"

"You Will Forget." Spike placed the sixth talisman on his forehead and put his arms around Xander. He gathered himself for the ritual, feeling Lydia's presence join with his once more. He took a deep, unneeded breath, and began the incantation:

"I beseech you, Amagandar

Protect this innocent soul

From the curse that belongs to another

Remove the affliction

Restore the life line

I beseech you, Amagandar

Let not this friend be taken

This plea I make with sincere heart

By my words, let it be true." 

Spike once again closed his eyes and added his own thoughts. *It's no secret I don't like you. You're nothing more to me than Buffy's little lap dog. But you've got guts, and you take care of Buffy. She needs you.* This time Spike felt like he could actually feel the spell beginning to work before the now familiar scent wafted through the air. He suddenly stiffened as he heard a gasp behind him.

"Xander! I don't believe this! Get away from him!" He recognized Anya's voice and groaned. A second voice made his heart sink even further.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Spike let go of Xander and turned to meet Buffy's cold gaze. He had no idea how he was going to explain this one.

Feedback, please!


	13. 

Disclaimer: Oh, you know the drill by now...not mine!

**************************************

"Hi, Buffy, fancy running into you here...oh, bloody hell..." Spike held his hands in front of him in a placating gesture, but he could tell the Slayer was having none of it. Anya, on the other hand, was shouting at Xander while hitting him on the arm, seeming not to notice he was staring blankly forward and not reacting.  
  
"I don't believe you! You swore you weren't having sex with Spike!" Buffy looked startled.  
  
"I'm not! We're not!" Spike hastened to yell.  
  
"Spike, I want to know what's going on! You better start explaining, fast." Buffy advanced menacingly towards the vampire, who started backing away.  
  
"Explain. Right. I can explain everything, why don't we all just sit down and-" He had backed himself into a corner. Buffy cut him off by grabbing his jacket.  
  
"On second thought, I don't care about your explanation," she responded, lifting him by his lapels and preparing to toss him across the room.  
  
"Not the window! Not the window!" Spike shrieked. Buffy exchanged a quick glance with Anya, who shrugged. Buffy nodded curtly.  
  
"Fine!" She threw Spike across the room instead. He landed fifteen feet away on a worn loveseat. The impact caused him to knock it over and he fell over backwards, the small sofa landing on top of him.  
  
"And you!" Anya shrieked at Xander's still-frozen form. "You're awfully quiet, Xander! Guilt must be eating away at you, huh? I can't believe you'd do this to me, you're such a...such a...such a man!" On the last word, Anya hauled off and slapped her boyfriend hard across the face. Unfortunately for Xander, this was the moment he emerged from the trance.  
  
"Hey! What the...Ow?!" Xander put his hand to his face, blinking in pain and confusion. He looked from his girlfriend to Buffy, still staring at the overturned loveseat with her fists clenched, and back to Anya again. "Ahn, honey, if you don't mind my asking, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR???"  
  
"Don't play dumb, Xander!" Anya retorted furiously, clearly on the verge of tears. Xander just looked befuddled.  
  
"I'm not playing!" That response brought a snort from under the loveseat, followed by a groan. Two hands and a blonde head slowly emerged. Xander pointed at him. "Hey, that's Spike. What's Spike doing here?" Anya stomped her foot and gave an angry squeal.  
  
"Apparently, making a love connection," Buffy quipped dryly. Xander misunderstood her meaning.  
  
"Hey, is he bugging you again? Because I've got a pointy stick that's got his name on it." Both Anya and Buffy stared at him in disbelief. Spike began checking for the nearest exit. *Nope, there's no way I'd make it before I'd be William the Dusty.*  
  
"Is that what you call it? Your pet name for it? Pointy stick?" Anya sniffled. "Cause it's not very romantic, the names I came up with are much nicer-"  
  
"Xander, you have no idea what's going on, do you?" Buffy cut the ex-demon off as she saw the growing alarm on her friend's face. Xander shook his head, looking at Buffy with a pleading expression. "A few minutes ago, Anya and I walked in here, and you were in Spike's arms. You looked very...close." Xander stared at her, his face as blank as when he'd been in the trance. His mouth opened, then closed, but no sound came out. Finally he managed to respond.  
  
"Nuh-uh!" Anya folded her arms across her chest and looked annoyed.  
  
"Dear God, Xander, we caught you! Admit it. You're Spike's sex toy!" Spike snickered, attracting Buffy's attention again. She gave him a look that Spike knew from experience meant that she was about to do him grave bodily harm. He had to think fast. Xander, in the meantime, was shaking his head so furiously it was about to come off of his shoulders.  
  
"No, not, not Spike, no, no! Not Spike. Definitely not Spike." A burst of hysterical laughter emerged from his lips. "Okay, I get it, this is a not very funny joke, right, guys? Give Xander a nervous breakdown and we all have a really good laugh. Ha!!"  
  
"I can't believe you'd say that, lover, after all we've meant to each other," Spike purred. Buffy turned away from him to advance on Xander instead. Xander just gaped at Spike.  
  
"Could you be more evil? We are not. . .we never. . .you...bloodsucking fiend! I say we stake him, okay, girls?" Buffy had moved to one side of Xander and Anya still stood on the other. They glowered at him through narrowed eyes as his head swiveled back and forth between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match. "You with me, with the staking of Spike? Show of hands? Buff? Ahn?"  
  
"Can I say something?" Spike called to them, lifting one hand like he was trying to answer a question in school, while the other sneaked into his pocket.  
  
"No! I think you've said enough!" Xander responded, panicked. Buffy gave Spike a long-suffering look and sighed.  
  
"Make it good!" Spike smiled at her almost sweetly.  
  
"It's good. I just wanted to tell you all...good night, kids!" With that, he lobbed the bag of sleep sand he had been given for emergencies at the three. It hit next to their feet, and for a second they all just looked at it. Then soundlessly and at once they slumped to the ground like puppets with cut strings. A small cloud of glittering sand had drifted over them and dissolved. Spike blinked, impressed. "Well, now that was brilliant!"   
  
Spike knew it was time to make his escape, but he couldn't stop staring at Buffy. She looked so peaceful, so perfect. *Don't be such a fool! You've got to go if you're to make it to L.A. in time to finish this!* Despite his self-recriminations, which sounded to him an awful lot like that Watcher girl, he moved over to where they were sleeping. Crouching down, he tentatively reached out and touched Buffy's hair, then her cheek. She sighed in her sleep and nuzzled her cheek against his hand, startling him. He slowly withdrew his hand and gazed at her softly, a small wondering smile playing on his lips.  
  
"It's never going to happen for you and me, is it, Buffy? No way to make it work. No way you're ever gonna love me." He started to move away, then changed his mind as a much happier thought occurred to him. "Okay, Slayer," he said in a louder voice. "Seein as how I'm doing all this for you, without gettin any credit for it, I think that you owe me some gas money. Now if I were the Slayer's money, where would I be?" He leered at Buffy, then reached out and put his hands on her, running them over her more interesting curves. An unexpected wave of guilt washed over him and he jerked his hands away, almost falling over.   
  
*What the hell is the matter with you?* he thought to himself angrily. *My God, are you an evil vampire or what?* He reached back, this time just reaching into her pockets. *Hello, what's this then?* He pulled out a twenty dollar bill, which he slipped into his own pocket, and then a slip of paper with a name and phone number scrawled on it. *Ben, huh? Must be that nancy boy the girl's all drooly for.* He paused for a moment, the image of himself tearing the paper into shreds and scattering it like confetti over the sleeping trio warring with his common sense. Finally he decided to return it to her pocket, absently flipping it over first. There was a name and address written on the other side. *Warren Mears...that must be the bloke the robot girl was yammering on about.* He hesitated a moment longer, a new, rather horrible idea forming in his head. He could tell right away that this was a really bad idea. A really, really bad idea. He should just forget about it and get out of town. He gave Buffy one more long look, then slipped the paper into his pocket as he strode purposefully from the room. *Maybe there is a way I can have you Buffy...*   
  
**************************************  
  
Lydia gasped. Normally she felt such a sense of happiness and contentment when the spell had been performed, but this time something had gone wrong. Not with the saving of the Harris boy, she knew he would be all right. She had a sense that Spike was in trouble, and then she had a sense that he was up to no good. The latter feeling filled her with a sudden sense of fury, and without thinking she picked up a vase and threw it, enjoying the satisfying sound of it shattering against the wall. An instant later she stared at the broken shards, quaking in horror.  
  
"What's happening to me? Where is this anger coming from?" she asked aloud, putting her shaking hands over her face. She took a deep shuddering breath, and gave out a little shriek at the sound of her doorbell ringing. Fearing that it might be Alan returning, she approached the door with more than a little trepidation. Looking out the peephole, she saw an woman that she didn't recognize. She opened the door a crack and peered out.  
  
"May I help you?" The woman was hardly the sort of person that Lydia was used to having show up on her doorstep. She wore a black trench coat open over a tight silver dress that barely covered her and was quite indecent, in Lydia's opinion. Her hair was died a bright scarlet red that matched her garish lipstick. The look she gave Lydia was defiant, but fear shown clearly from her almost black eyes.  
  
"You Lydia?" she asked gruffly.  
  
"I am. And you are?" The woman shifted nervously from one foot to the other.  
  
"Name's not important. I'm a friend of your brother's. I need to talk to ye." Lydia fixed her with an icy glare.  
  
"I believe I know all my brother's friends, at least by name. And as you have none, I believe our business is concluded." Lydia made a move to shut the door again, causing the woman to lean forward desperately.  
  
"No! Awright, it's Janice."  
  
"Janice. My brother's never mentioned you, Janice." At that Janice's eyes flashed, her chin raised defiantly.  
  
"Well, he wouldn't 'ave now, would 'e? Not exactly a bring around to tea kinda girl, am I? Look, missy, I've news about Aldy that you need, so let's stop bein' all nosy and get to it!" At Lydia's closed expression, she gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. Aldy told me if I ever needed 'elp and 'e wasn't about, I should come 'ere and show this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, elaborately carved dragon. Lydia stared at it, stunned. Her brother did indeed fancy himself something of a white knight, and she knew that he gave trinkets shaped as dragons to those he had put under his protection. White-faced, she opened the door and allowed Janice to pass through. *Not a vampire, at least* she mused, *but still, there's something not quite...human about her.*  
  
Janice took a seat on the sofa with excessive care, as if making a point that her presence might soil it. Lydia rolled her eyes. *Honestly, Aldric, where do you find these people?*   
  
"You said you had news about Aldric. Do you know where he is?" Janice shook her head, the fear back in her eyes.  
  
"I know where 'e was. Aldy showed up at me place yesterday lookin to hole up for a bit. Didn't say why, but I gathered it 'ad something to do with you. 'E was right-worried bout you, ducks." Lydia looked away, her face coloring. "Something wrong with you? You sick?"  
  
"No, I'm perfectly fine, just tell me about my brother."  
  
"Way 'e's talkin, sounded like you was sick. No matter, I tucked 'im in real nice, then 'ad to go to work. When I got back me door was wide open. And Aldy was gone."  
  
"Gone! What happened?" Janice spread her hands helplessly.  
  
"That's all I know, luv. 'E was gone, and so was that big book of 'is. No signs of fightin and all but it didn't sit right. E' wouldn't leave without tellin. I think someone took 'im." Lydia hugged herself in dismay. Her brother was obviously in even more trouble, and she had no idea where to begin to look for him. Both she and Janice started when the phone rang. Lydia hurried to answer it.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hello, Lydia, is that you?"  
  
"Quentin? I didn't expect - is something the matter with Alan?"  
  
"No, no, my nephew is quite well, my dear. I called you on a quite different, and I'm afraid rather unpleasant matter." He paused, and Lydia panicked for a moment.   
  
*Dear God, did someone other than my brother see me kill Colin? I didn't kill him, I know I didn't, but if Aldric saw me someone else...* Mercifully Quentin continued, but his words brought a new fear to her heart.  
  
"It's about Aldric."  
  
"Oh, no, Quentin, has something happened? Is Aldric hurt?" At those words, Janice leapt to her feet, eyeing Lydia anxiously.  
  
"Aldric is quite alright, but I'm afraid the Council was forced to have your brother retrieved, my dear. He's been captured and the team is taking him for questioning." Lydia's heart hammered against her chest.  
  
"Taking him where, Quentin? Questioning about what?"  
  
"He's suspected of numerous crimes against the Council, including theft and Colin Bixby's murder. I'm afraid I cannot tell you where he's being taken, I'm very sorry. I just thought that you should know."  
  
"I'll be right down." Lydia's mouth was set in a firm line, and the anger in her eyes struck fear in Janice's heart.  
  
"Really, Lydia, there's no need..."  
  
"I'll be right down, Quentin." She slammed down the receiver and addressed Janice. "The Watcher's Council sent a Retrieval Team after him. They're taking him somewhere to be questioned for crimes they believe he committed against them. This could take a while, I think you should go home and wait for me there. Give me your address." She handed Janice a pad and pencil and she scribbled it down.  
  
"What are you gonna do?" Janice asked as she handed it back.  
  
"I'm just going to have to convince them they're wrong." Something about her tone when she said it made Janice shiver. Or maybe it was Lydia's chilling smile.  
  
**************************************  
  
"I'm not making any more girls." The fear and uncertainty with which Warren uttered this disclaimer made Spike want to laugh out loud. He already knew he'd won.  
  
"Sure you are. And here's your specs." Warren caught the box reflexively as Spike dropped it. Inside was everything Spike had collected about the one girl in the world he had to have, no matter what. "You're gonna make her real good for me." Warren stared at the contents of the box, then back at him.  
  
"That's Buffy Summers."  
  
"That's right. You're gonna make me a very nice Buffy Summers of my very own. I want her just like the original model...but with a few minor modifications. It's all there, everything you need." He poked at the box menacingly, backing Warren up a step.  
  
"This'll take a little time."  
  
"That's all right, mate. I'm out of town for the next few days. I'll check on your progress when we get back. Just don't take too long."   
  
"N-no, not too long. Just a couple of weeks, maybe..." Spike saw the look of relief on Warren's face when he mentioned leaving town, and figured he'd better reinforce the 'danger' that the boy was in.  
  
"Like I said, I'll check in a few days. Make sure you don't need anything more from me. And Warren, if for some reason you're not around when I come to call, you do know I'll find you, wherever you go? And when I do, you do know how unhappy I'll be? An unhappy Spike means a very, very unhappy Warren." Warren gulped and nodded.  
  
"I'll be here. Don't worry." Spike grinned coldly and sauntered away.  
  
"Right then, I'll see myself out. Give your mum my regards." Spike reached the car and got behind the wheel, grinning wildly. He cranked up the stereo and let the tires squeal loudly as he took off. "Alright, sire, I'm coming for you now. Ready or not, it's showtime!"  
  
**************************************  
  
Briggs, Saunders and Chilson were the best Retrieval Unit the Watcher's Council had in their employ. They were cold, hard men who were sadistic enough to enjoy their work, but sensible enough to never let it get out of hand. Saunders was driving the black van as it moved into the countryside, Chilson as always riding shotgun at his side. Briggs was in the back with their new guest.  
  
"Are you sure he's okay? He's been out a long time," Briggs called up to the front of the van. He was starting to worry that perhaps Aldric Stokes-Martin was not going to survive this particular journey. While he couldn't care less if the man lived or died, it would be quite a spot of embarrassment for the team.  
  
"He's fine. Saunders put a bit of a spell on him after we nabbed him. If he wakes up here, we might not be able to hold him. According to the file, he's the strongest mage in the Council," Chilson answered. Briggs merely grunted in response. The men in the front suddenly leaned forward to get a better look at something in the road in front of them.  
  
"Bloody hell!" The exclamation was all that Saunders had time for before the van ran into a magical containment field. All three men were held paralyzed as unseen forces opened the back of the van. Aldric's unconscious body floated outside and vanished.  
  
"How the hell did he do that?" Briggs asked in wonder.  
  
"He didn't. I did. But you don't need to worry about him anymore." All three men recognized the voice, but before they could cry out, the van burst into flames, incinerating them instantly. The shadowy speaker watched the billowing smoke for a moment, then faded away as if he'd never been there.  
  
  
Feedback, please!  
  



	14. Spike Checks In

Disclaimer: I think we already covered this :)

Author's Note: Ah, the burning question: as we're crossing over a bit into A:tS here, where in that episode cycle are we? The Angel scenes should be considered as taking place between Epiphany and Disharmony. Just so you know.

**************************************

"Dammit, that is simply unacceptable! Find out what happened and who was involved and I want to know now!" Quentin slammed down the telephone and looked at a determined Lydia, who had entered just in time to catch this last bit of the man's tirade.

"I realize this is a bad time, but I need you to hear me out about Aldric. I won't leave until you do." Quentin simply stared at her for a moment, then moved forward to take her elbow gently.

"Lydia, I have some news. Perhaps you'd best sit down." Lydia shook him off, suddenly frightened out of her mind by his grave tone.

"No, I don't want to sit, tell me, please! Did something happen to Aldric?"

"The Retrieval Team was set upon by unknown forces. Their van was found...burning. Everyone inside was dead." 

Lydia choked back a sob. *No, he's not dead! My brother cannot be dead!* Quentin gave her another somber pat on the shoulder. He was uncertain if the next bit was actually good news.

"The team that was sent to capture your brother consisted of three men. There were only three bodies found inside the van, but they were burned beyond recognition. We have to wait for identification."

"But someone got out. That's what you're saying! You think Aldric escaped!" Her happy relief at that thought was quickly dampened by anger. "But you believe that he's responsible for this. That he killed them! Quentin, you have to know that's impossible!"

"My dear, I don't know what to believe at the moment. But even you have to admit, these circumstances do not look good for Aldric." Lydia looked down, her fists clenched until the knuckles looked like parchment. Quentin cleared his throat reluctantly. "I hate to add to your worries now, Lydia, but I'm afraid there is another matter. Have you heard from your father recently?" Lydia blinked at the unexpected question.

"No, I thought he was away on Council business. You haven't heard from him?" Quentin sighed.

"Gillian spoke to him yesterday. We expected him back earlier today, and I was waiting to tell him about Aldric's troubles face to face. I felt I owed Geoffrey that courtesy as his friend and because of the standing in the Watchers Council that your family shares. But now it seems we are unable to find him. We even tried a location spell to no avail. I was hoping you could shed some light on his whereabouts."

"I'm sorry, Quentin. I have no idea where my father might be." Lydia allowed herself to be led to a chair by Quentin and slowly sank into it, dazed. *My brother is at best missing, at worst dead, and now I find out my father is missing as well. This can't be happening! It's unreal.* Quentin buzzed his secretary and asked that she bring them in some tea. As he hung up the line, it rang again immediately. He picked up the receiver impatiently.

"Travers here. Philip, good, you have news?" Lydia strained, but could not make out what the voice on the phone was saying. Quentin merely nodded, grunted, or gave small affirmative comments in response during the fairly brief conversation. Finally he hung up the phone and gave her a troubled look.

"Was that about Father? Or Aldric?"

"Phillip located a witness to the van incident. A man reported that he saw the van held up by some kind of force field, a body was floated out the back of the van and then it burst into flames. The witness said there was another man standing by the road, and that both that man and the body from the van vanished into thin air. He believed it to be the work of alien invaders." Quentin shook his head ruefully. "Your brother was in all likelihood the one who escaped, Lydia. It does not sound like he engineered his own rescue. Someone was either helping him..."

"Or he's been abducted. By someone completely unknown to us. Someone wielding very powerful magick." Gillian entered and began setting up the tea tray.

"Indeed. Dark magick. We have no way of knowing if your brother is working with this someone, or if he is in peril. But there are definitely malevolent forces at work here." Lydia stood, a new idea forming. She waved her hand in a shooing gesture at Gillian who was now trying to hand her a teacup.

"I want to see where it happened." At her declaration, Quentin gaped at her, shocked.

"Lydia, it's quite horrific, I really see no point..." Quentin motioned for Gillian to leave. She did so with a sympathetic glance towards Lydia.

"He's my brother, Quentin. I know him better than anyone. We can sense things about each other sometimes. Maybe, if I see where he last was seen, I can get some kind of clue, some glimmer of where he might be, who might have taken him. I know he would have left some message behind if he was at all able, but I may be the only one who would be able to find or comprehend it." She looked at him, a glint of a tear the only sign of her great distress. "Please, I must do this."

"Very well. I'll have someone drive you out there. And I hope you're successful, Lydia, I truly do. I must admit, I have a very uneasy feeling about all of this." Lydia allowed him to escort her out. She wasn't going to admit it to Quentin, but she had more than just an uneasy feeling about what was happening. She felt a true sense of doom.

**************************************

It wasn't until he got to Los Angeles that Spike realized he might have a problem locating Angel. Where the office of his company had once been was now a construction sight with a sign that said a new Starbucks would be opening soon. *Because we so desperately needed another one of those!* Spike thought sarcastically, staring at it through the blacked out windows of his car. Spike could sense when his sire was near, and he knew he would be able to locate him eventually. *But I can't exactly go around like a bloodhound sniffing the air, now can I, not to mention the flames shooting out of my head might be something of a bother. Besides, time's running out.* Spike had begun having this overwhelming sense of urgency about an hour ago. He didn't know where it was coming from, but he knew he had to find the last friend, his sire, and perform the ritual soon. The sooner the better. Spike closed his eyes, the image of Lydia once again flashing across his eyelids. She was looking a bit pissy to him.

"Well, if you have any ideas, luv, now's the time. I'm fresh out," he said. The image of phone book flashed into his head, along with a smug Lydia. "Fine, well, I guess you're a bloody genius, but that's not good enough. Might tell us where his office is, but no way of knowing if he's actually in there, is there? We need something a bit more definite." The words of a spell suddenly popped into his head, and he rushed to scribble them down on the side of the box of Weetabix he had brought along to liven up his lunch. 

"Wait, luv, I'll never remember...oh!" He stopped protesting and writing when he realized that not only did he remember all the words to the spell, he knew exactly what it would do. "Lost and found spell, eh? Should do the trick. I'm gettin' to not mind so much that you're rattling around in my head, pet." Spike felt a sudden sense of the Watcher's sadness, followed by a renewed sense of urgency. *Must do the spell. There's not much time.* Spike prepared himself for a moment, then spoke the words of the spell as he traced a mystical symbol in the air with his hands, reciting the spell:

"Aradia, Goddess of the lost, 

the path is murky, the woods are dense, 

darkness pervades, my friend is lost, 

I beseech thee, bring the light

Shine the way to him."

Spike opened his eyes and saw a small light like a firefly appear in front of him. "Hello there, did I conjure you?" It made a kind of buzzing sound. The light got slightly brighter, then moved towards the windshield. Spike instinctively knew he should follow its directions. Spike shifted the car into drive and headed off. "Well, then, lead on, Tink!"

Spike had decided that taking directions from a small buzzing light while driving in Los Angeles was not the smartest or safest thing he had done in his undead life. He got confirmation for that when the conjured guiding light suddenly flew out of his car window and up through the door of a hotel on the other side of the street. Spike slammed on the brakes, causing a cacophony of horns and swear words to erupt around him, including the choice selection coming from his own mouth. He looked up at the Hyperion Hotel. *Swank. So the sire's gone all Hollywood. Suits him somehow.* He pulled roughly off the road, parking in a place that no sane person would ever construe as having been intended for parking a car. Making sure he had the last talisman and the Stone of Mnemosyne secure in his pocket, he grabbed a new blanket he had brought for this occasion and hurled himself out of the car, running across all the lanes of traffic, ignoring the horns and screaming brakes that accompanied this mad dash. He didn't stop until he'd reached the relative safety of the shaded overhang in front of the hotel. Pausing to take the blanket from his head, he barged in through the doors and almost immediately found himself up against a wall, Angel's arm against his throat. While it wouldn't matter that he couldn't breathe, it was awfully painful, and Spike struggled against him.

"Spike, what are you doing here? Looking for Dru?" Spike ogled him in total surprise. This was the last question he'd expected.

"Hello to you, too, granddad!" Spike managed to gasp out. "And since when are you and Dru chummy again? She's been to Sunnydale, you know." Angel released his chokehold but kept a firm grip on the younger vampire.

"Dru's in Sunnydale? Does Buffy know?" Angel asked urgently.

"Well, she didn't, but when our girl took a cattle prod to her and nearly killed her, I think she got an inkling that she might be around." Angel leaned in closer, an alarmed look on his face. Spike smirked back at him. "Good thing old Spike was around to save the day, the Slayer's fighting fit no thanks to you. Dru's gone away now. But if you knew she was about, a little heads up for your friends might have been nice. But maybe you don't really care about Buffy that way anymore, is that it?" Spike got a great deal of satisfaction out of taking this self-righteous tone, feeling absolutely no need to explain to Angel about his actual involvement in what happened with Buffy and Drusilla. He was rewarded with an guilt-ridden look and a relaxing of his grip from the souled vampire. He chose the opportunity to shake his sire off, walking away.

"Of course I care about Buffy. Things have just been...there's been a lot going on, with Dru and Darla-" Spike whirled around, flabbergasted.

"Darla? As in my previously very dusty great-grandmother Darla?" At Angel's curt nod, he rolled his eyes. "What is it with you two? Some sort of get-out-of-Hell-free card you're not sharing with the rest of us? Makes me feel left out." 

"That's not what...wait a minute, did I just hear you say you rescued Buffy? Am I actually supposed to believe that?" Spike puffed up a little, defiantly lighting a cigarette.

"You really should check in with the Slayer more, mate. I'm part of the team now. An integral part, especially as far as Buffy's concerned." He drew deeply from the cigarette, watching his grandsire's reaction. The innuendo in this lie did not escape Angel, and his eyes narrowed angrily.

"You're lying to me Spike, and I have to ask myself: Why? What's really going on here?" Spike knew that now was the time to trick Angel into looking at the memory crystal and perform the ritual, but his intense desire to have one up on the man who had bettered him far too often and in the things that were most important to him was overwhelming his reason. He crushed the cigarette under his foot and smiled dangerously at the other vampire.

"You're so certain that I'm lying, mate? After all, I'm a bad boy, and we know the Slayer likes her men a bit nasty...that commando fella was too pure for her, she sent him packing right quick," he added, enjoying the surprise flash over the growing anger in Angel's eyes. *He's definitely out of the loop, I can tell him anything* "It's a rough job, but the Slayer has needs that need tending, and with me there's no risk of pesky soul-loss problems to break the mood. Can't lose what I don't already have, can I?" 

His gameface now on, Angel charged at Spike, who was ready for him, also wearing his vampire visage. They began exchanging blows, each landing a few good hits while ducking most of them. Spike managed to land a hard kick to Angel's midsection, knocking him off of his feet. He immediately jumped on top of him and began landing more blows. Angel grabbed his arms and the two vampires wrestled back and forth, rolling along the floor of the hotel.

"Why...are...you...here?" Angel asked again through gritted teeth as he temporarily got the upper hand. Spike quickly turned the tables on him, dragging him to his feet and wrapping him in a bear hug.

"Actually, I came to do this, but this isn't exactly the way I planned it." Spike gave Angel a head butt, causing him to fall back onto the counter, slightly stunned. "It's alright. I like this way better," Spike declared gleefully, moving in to cause more damage. Angel grabbed the phone from the counter and hit Spike across the face with it, causing him to bend over in pain. He then picked up the blonde vampire and hurled him across the room. Spike landed hard and was dazed for a moment, long enough for Angel to leap on top of him, holding a stake in killing position.

"Now, let's try this one more time, Spike. Why are you here, and remember, if you lie to me again, this will be your final answer."

**************************************

Xander looked around him and smiled. This was one of his favorite dreams. He gazed first at an angelic looking Anya, curled up against him on his left side, then down at Buffy, her head on his right shoulder. Looking down a little further, he frowned, slightly puzzled. *That's very strange, usually in this dream there isn't quite so much clothing...and usually we're not on the floor. There's something weird here.* At that moment, Buffy's eyes fluttered open, she looked up at him and smiled sleepily.

"G'morning, Xander." Her eyes drifted closed once more for a second, then she leapt to her feet with a horrified shriek. "Xander!" Buffy's scream both awoke Anya and caused Xander to jump up as well.

"Buffy! I can explain!" Xander said without thinking, his mind in overload. *Not a dream, not a dream, not a dream, not a dream.* Anya had climbed to her feet slowly, and both she and Buffy were looking at him in anticipation. He thought hard for a moment, then shrugged. "Nope, I have absolutely no idea what's going on here." All three then looked around them, taking in their surroundings. "Hey, we're in the Commons, and...here's my window." Xander walked up to the window, puzzled. He turned back to the girls. "The last thing I remember, Buffy went to patrol and I was finishing up the repair. But I don't remember actually being done. I must have done this, though, unless it was the work of clever window gnomes." Buffy nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to jog her own memory.

"I went out on patrol, and I ran into a few vampires..."

"More like a half dozen," Anya interjected matter-of-factly. "I was coming to take you home, honey, and I saw Buffy fighting some vampires, so I yelled, 'Hey, Buffy!'"

"Which startled the hell out of me, which in turn allowed a vamp to get the better of me for a second." Buffy glared at Anya, who nodded enthusiastically, oblivious to Buffy's aggravation.

"Yes, he had you pinned before you managed to kick him off and stake him. It made the battle much more exciting, like those wrestling shows that Xander likes to watch." Xander gave Buffy a sheepish shrug as Anya continued. "And then I came over to help, and dusted a vampire on my own! Buffy got the rest." Anya smiled at Xander. "I enjoyed the killing. Reminded me of my vengeance days." Xander shuddered.

"Ahn, there's major weirdness going on. Please don't be scary now." 

"Anyway," Buffy emphasized the word, giving the couple an annoyed look, "after the vamps were all dusted, we were heading over here...but I don't remember ever getting here. It all gets fuzzy after that." Anya nodded in agreement.

"But we obviously got here, because here we are. Together. Waking up on the floor." Anya's eyes lit up, an idea forming. "Oh! Maybe we all got drunk together, and we don't remember, because we all got drunk! Together."

"Sure, because that's something that we do, like, every other never." Buffy's peppy sarcasm mirrored the look in Xander's eyes. Anya crossed her arms across her chest in a pout. Buffy looked at the mysteriously finished window, lost in thought, then her eyes widened as she realized just how bright it was outside. "Oh my God! What time is it?" She grabbed Xander's wrist, looked at his watch, and let out a little yelp. "My mom must be freaking! She knew I was patrolling last night - and Giles! I didn't check in with Giles!"

"I think you just said the magic word, Buff. We need Giles. Maybe this is hooked into that other wacky stuff that's been happening." Xander instantly realized he had put his foot in his mouth.

"Other wacky stuff? Giles said there was nothing going on other than Glory. Why do I get the feeling I'm over here and the loop is to my right?" Buffy's eyes narrowed as both Anya and Xander avoided her gaze. Xander shuffled his feet nervously.

"It might not be anything, we aren't really sure...I think we need to talk to Giles. Right away." Buffy gave him a look that told him that he was not out of trouble with her in the least, then sighed.

"As soon as I call my Mom, she must be scared to death," she called back. Xander and Anya went to pack up Xander's tools and restore order to the room as Buffy dialed her home number. Joyce picked up breathlessly on the second ring.

"Buffy?"

"Mom, it's me, I'm fine." Buffy could hear her mother's sigh of relief.

"You didn't call, I checked the hospitals...you're sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine...it's a long story, and I'm not really sure how to explain it to you right now, but I'm okay, not a scratch on me. I'm with Xander and Anya."

"Are you coming home?" Buffy could tell her mother would only really be assured when she saw her daughter for herself. She smiled.

"In a while. I need to go see Giles and go over some things, but then I'll be back."

"Okay, honey. I'll be here. Love you."

"You too, Mom." Buffy nodded at Xander as she hung up the receiver, and the three headed to Xander's car.

"Did anyone else have any weird dreams? I dreamt about Spike," Anya remarked. A shocked look of recognition passed over Xander's face before he hastily disclaimed.

"No dreams here, totally dreamless, say, is anyone else hungry? I'm hungry." Buffy smirked into her hand, vague memories of a dream about Spike almost coming into focus in her own mind, then vanishing like ghosts.

**************************************

Lydia smiled reassuringly at the young trainee who had been assigned to chauffeur her back to her flat. The young woman had been shocked when Lydia had given her an address in this particular part of the city. Now she looked back at her charge doubtfully.

"You live here, Miss Stokes-Martin?" Lydia smiled at the girl and shook her head reassuringly.

"Indeed no, Dinah. I need to visit an acquaintance who may have some information of value to the Council."

"I'd best come with you, then," Dinah replied, every fiber of her being screaming reluctance to do so. Despite the stress and worry she was suffering, Lydia had to hold in a burst of laughter at the girl's obvious discomfort.

"You needn't bother, I'm afraid this might take a while. I'll find my own way back to my flat, not to worry." Lydia exited the car before the girl could muster up another half-hearted protest, and with a wave that was much more cheery then she felt. Her trip to the countryside had been not what one might call fruitful. She had been unable to turn up any real clues about her brother's disappearance, although she had gotten a strong sense that he was still alive. She had also gotten a sense of who might be responsible, but she was unwilling to allow herself to contemplate that quite yet. The ramifications of the idea that was now nagging at the back of her mind were more than she could bear. To top it off, Spike's visit to Angelus had all gone horribly wrong. She had let out a squeal of frustration at one point that had made poor, skittish Dinah nearly drive the car off the road, then weakly claimed that she had seen a cat almost run in front of the car. She could tell by the look Dinah gave her in response that she hadn't been entirely convincing. Too many things were starting to unravel, and that Janice might have some clue or piece of knowledge of which she was still unaware was her last bit of hope. 

Lydia strode up to the seedy looking door and knocked firmly. After several knocks with no response, she began to call out the woman's name. Dread formed a knot in her stomach as she tried the doorknob, and intensified as she found the door unlocked. The door swung open, and she stepped inside. 

She blinked into the dimly lit room, unsurprised to find that items had been strewn about carelessly. Someone else had obviously already been here, and they had searched the place. Lydia began to move with caution through the disarray, searching for a lamp that might at least illuminate the chaos. Something caught her heel and she stumbled a bit, reflexively looking down to see what made her trip. Janice's unseeing eyes peered back at her, her brassy lips pulled back in a frozen scream of horror. Lydia screamed and reeled back. She found that while she was sickened at finding her brother's friend dead, a part of her had expected it. 

Just as part of her was unsurprised to look up now into the eyes of the murderer. 

Feedback, please!


	15. Spike and Lydia Join Forces

"She was a demon, you know."

Lydia forced herself to remain calm. She was unable to look away from the knife he was so carefully cleaning with a cloth. Fastidiousness nearly to the point of obsessive-compulsiveness. She already knew that about him. She knew many things about him. She was his fiancee, after all.

"No, I wasn't aware of that. She was a bit showy, but I found her rather nice." She shifted her gaze to his face and felt a chill as she looked into eyes that told her everything she needed to know. He had clearly fallen into madness. "And now it seems I've found her rather dead."

"It does indeed. The question is, why did you find her at all, dearest?" Alan waved his hand, and Lydia felt herself floating about a foot into the air. She was slowly being drawn towards him. "I had thought Aldric had kept you away from his more unsavory associations, but yet...here you are. I'm beginning to think that you know more about your brother's plans then you told me. Please tell me I'm wrong." Despite his obvious intentions to harm her, his tone was mild, almost affectionate.

"Liberatio!" Lydia commanded, and she was instantly released. She dropped to her feet, crouching from the impact, then stood defiant. He looked momentarily astonished that she had thwarted his spell, then impressed.

"I see your brother has taught you a few tricks." They circled each other warily.

"You've always underestimated him. And me." Alan gave her a look of mock admiration, then a contemptuous laugh.

"Aldric is a fool. He's always been a fool. We've been ahead of him every step of the way, and he's been utterly predictable. Coming to hide with his Bracken trollop! He actually thought he could keep her a secret!" Alan's scorn fueled Lydia's newly found temper. She was clenching her fists tightly, her nails drawing blood from her palms.

"Where is my brother? You've done something with him, haven't you?"

"Actually, my dear, I haven't done anything with him. It wasn't for me to do." He gestured back towards Janice's still form. "I've taken care of the task I was issued. Tying up loose ends." Lydia's face showed her puzzlement. "It's alright, Lydia. I wouldn't expect you to grasp this. You've stumbled into something that's bigger than you could possibly fathom, and your brother is right in the middle of it."

**************************************

Aldric lifted his head and moaned. He felt like he had been hit by a tram. More than once. He blearily opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus on his surroundings. He was chained to the ceiling in a standing position, his arms behind him and his feet chained together. He grabbed hold of the chains behind him as best he could and softly whispered a spell that should dissolve them. Nothing happened. In dismay he looked down at the chain that bound him across his chest and moaned.

*Iron. I should have anticipated that.* The iron chains would resist any magickal attempts to break free of them and make it impossible for him to try just about any spells he knew as well. Simple but effective way to trap a mage. Having resigned himself to the idea that escape was at least temporarily unfeasible, he took a better look at his surroundings. It appeared to be an underground cavern of some sort, dank and dark with a rusty smell. A number of torches in wall sconces provided the only illumination, and strange tapestries, all black with red symbols etched upon them draped the walls. He was locked into some kind of cage that took up nearly half of the chamber, although outside of himself and his chains it was empty. He looked at the bars ruefully. "Iron too, no doubt," he murmured aloud.

"Of course, Aldric. We don't at all want you to think we don't respect your considerable...gifts." Aldric tried to muster up a sense of shock at the familiar voice, but as soon as he heard it he realized that on some subconscious level he had expected it.

"Respect is not a word I normally associate with your opinion of me, Father." Geoffrey Stokes-Martin stepped out of the shadows and approached Aldric's prison. He was a strikingly handsome man, the gray in his temples the only real sign of his advancing years. His eyes were the color of the sea in a storm, a gray that was nearly black. He was dressed in a black vestment, his head uncovered by its hood. His expression indicated that, in fact, he held nothing but derision for the young Watcher, but he continued to speak in the same falsely reassuring tone.

"Oh, but I do have respect for you, my son. You have the sharpest mind and the most prodigious talent for magick of anyone in the Council. Everyone is aware of what you have to offer. How far you could have gone. You could have headed the Watchers' Council, if you hadn't thrown it away." Aldric couldn't help but be amused by the absurdity of having this familiar conversation under these circumstances.

"Most fathers just disown the sons who disappoint them, you know. This really seems a bit much." Aldric rattled his chains for effect, watching his father's expression darken in anger.

"Do you think this is some kind of game, boy? Some bit of fun to be laughed off?" Geoffrey angrily signaled someone forth. A man wearing an identical robe, but with the hood obscuring his features, hurried forward, a ring of keys rattling in his hand. The door to the cage was opened and Geoffrey strode inside.

"I'm not at all certain I'm having what one might call fun, but I am certain of one thing. My father is quite insane." Geoffrey smiled at that remark, and Aldric's blood ran cold.

"I assure you, my boy, my sanity has never been less in doubt. If anything, I am more sound now than I have been for years. It took nearly a lifetime of disappointment, of failure, of misery, but all I've ever wanted is almost within my grasp, and, fortunately for you, you have an opportunity to overcome your lifetime of ignominy as well. And I'm going to make sure that opportunity doesn't pass you by." Aldric shuddered. From Geoffrey's inflection, he knew that the word opportunity for him was synonymous with death.

"What is going on here, Father? The Council cannot possibly sanction this!"

"The Council is nothing more than a assemblage of..."

**************************************

"...fools! They are fighting forces they cannot possibly hope to defeat, with a young girl as their champion!" Alan seemed content to carry on for the moment, and Lydia was goading him on. She was hoping against hope that he would let something slip that would indicate Aldric's whereabouts. She had no doubt that Alan knew exactly where her brother was.

"The Slayer is more than just a young girl, and you know it."

"Yes, but she cannot win. Evil will always get the best of her. How many Slayers have been called in your lifetime? I know I've seen more than twenty. The Slayer is called, the Slayer fights, the Slayer dies, a new Slayer is chosen. But the Slayer will never win. Evil is simply stronger. The Council is simply sticking its finger in the dike, but the flood is still inevitable."

"What are you suggesting, Alan? That we give up?" Alan snorted.

"Stop fighting a battle that we cannot win! But we're certainly not giving up. We're just switching to the winning side."

**************************************

"The demons will certainly triumph and rule the earth once more. Rather than wait for the inevitable and be destroyed, we've decided to bring them to victory. Then we will take our rightful places as leaders in the new order. Our power will be absolute."

Aldric had been listening to his father rant, growing more and more horrified. *Madness, utter and total. He must be stopped. They must be stopped. I need to find out everything possible.*

"You keep saying we, Father, but so far all I've seen is you and one little lackey. The Council will easily stop you."

"Many in the Council have joined us already. We've recruited dozens of others as well. Of course, they do not realize that most of them will be slaves or sacrifices for our new demon brethren, but they will serve our cause in the interim."

"How can you be certain? Perhaps the Council is aware of your betrayal and has planted spies to undermine you?" Aldric didn't really believe that this was likely, but he wanted to see how his father would react. Geoffrey shrugged off the suggestion, but his eyes were slightly uneasy.

"Not possible. We have many ways of ascertaining loyalty. Those that fail are eliminated."

"You've had Council members killed?" Geoffrey smiled cruelly.

"You still fail to understand, my son. The Watchers' Council is dead. Long live the Concillium Nocens, the..."

**************************************

"...Dark Council!" Alan's eyes were alight with fervent zealotry. Lydia felt sickened by what he had told her so far. She was struck by a sudden realization.

"Colin Bixby. He was one of you, wasn't he? You killed him." Alan seemed amused by her accusation.

"No, Lydia, as I recall..." He waved his hand, and Lydia suddenly found herself looking into her own face. "...you killed Colin Bixby. Or at least it appeared that way." Lydia thought she would have fainted from relief if the situation was not so dire. Despite these strange fits of rage, she was not a murderer.

"You used a glamour? But Aldric saw you...I mean, me...he would have known..." The false Lydia smiled mockingly as her features morphed back into Alan's own.

"He was meant to see. We knew he would either accuse you of the crime, turning you against him and losing the little credibility he had left, or he would run and make himself look guilty. As to how I fooled our resident genius, it was surprisingly simple. I've engineered a special glamour, one almost impossible to detect." He puffed up in pride. "I infused myself with your essence, Lydia. I should apologize, I had to pinch some of your unmentionables to do it." Despite the gravity of the situation, Lydia favored him with a small smile at this absurdity.

"You nicked my knickers, darling? That would be positively droll if a man weren't dead."

"Colin was hardly a man. He was an idiot that had served his purpose. He was quite fearful of you, you know, he tried to tell everything. What did you do to that poor boy?" Lydia chose to ignore the question, and instead decided to validate the suspicion that had been filling her with so much dread.

"So how is my father involved in all of this?" Alan's shocked stare told her that she had guessed right. Her father was in this up to his neck.

**************************************

"I won't be asking again, Spike." Angel's eyes were hard as he prepared himself to stake the blonde vampire. Spike struggled with what he should do. If he told Angel the truth, he would be unable to stop the prophecy. But if he lied and Angel didn't believe him, he was dust and the prophecy would happen anyway. Then again, there was no guarantee that even if he did tell the truth that Angel would believe him; he still didn't always believe it himself. He decided upon a modified truth.

"I'll tell you everything, Angelus. But answer me one question first." Angel glared at him and nodded slowly. Spike swallowed and asked his question softly. "Do you still love her?"

"So help me God, Spike, if you've done something to Buffy-"

"I haven't done anything to her, I'm trying to do something FOR her, you soddin idiot!" Spike screamed his response in frustration. Angel gave him a disbelieving stare.

"You honestly expect me to believe that you're trying to help the Slayer. Come on, Spike, you're really gonna have to do better than that."

"Do you love her?" Spike repeated. Angel stared at Spike for a long moment.

"Yes, I love her. I'll never stop loving her." Spike stared back, maintaining eye contact.

"So do I. God help me, I do. I love Buffy to the point where it hurts. I don't need to breathe air, I need to breathe her, or I die. And I know I'm already dead, but you get the bloody point." Seeing Angel still looked dubious, he sighed. "Look, I've got something in my pocket. Let me show it to you, I promise it's not anything harmful. When you see it you'll understand why I'm here, everything." Angel considered his proposal for a long moment, his dark expression unreadable. Then he slowly got up and put the stake away. 

Spike scrambled to his feet, hurrying to pull the memory crystal out of his pocket. The feeling of urgency that had been haunting him was rapidly turning into full-blown panic. He had to do this ritual, fast. Holding up the chain, he placed it in front of Angel's face...and watched it fly across the room as Angel hastily grabbed it from his hand and threw it as far as he could. It landed with a loud clang against the far wall. Spike blinked in shock, then snarled at Angel in frustrated anger.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Angel grabbed Spike roughly the lapels once again.

"Did you think I wouldn't recognize a Stone of Mnemosyne? Whatever kind of game this is, it ends now! Spike, talk!" Spike opened his mouth, but no sound came out. *This is a nightmare! Who knew the poof would recognize the bleedin rock? What the hell do I do now?*

**************************************

"So, wait, I've seen this film at least a dozen times, Father. This is the part where you ask me to join you, to give in to the 'Dark Side.' Am I wrong?" Having listened to Geoffrey go on for minutes about his place of power after victory was achieved, Aldric was desperate to get him to give away more of what the Dark Council had planned.

"I'm afraid you are, my son. I have no interest in having you join our cause. You never would, anyway, there's too much good in you." Geoffrey spoke the word 'good' as if they left a disgusting taste in his mouth. "No, while you have a valuable contribution to make for our cause, I'm afraid it's not one that you'd be able to make willingly. Or be able to survive."

"Of course." Aldric arched an eyebrow sardonically.

"However, before you meet your just reward, Aldric, you are going to tell us a few things. Like the location you disappeared to a few days ago. We completely lost track of you, and I have a feeling that the contraprophecy was in some way involved with that little event." Aldric started. They didn't realize that he had been impersonating Lydia during that time, when she went to Sunnydale to contact William the Bloody. *They still don't realize what my sister's been up to, maybe she'll be safe. I have to know what they have planned for her.* 

"What about Lydia?" he returned, counting on his father's zeal for his plan to make him easy to distract. Geoffrey's expression actually seemed to soften for a second, and Aldric wondered if his father might still be reachable.

"Ah, my dear sweet Lydia. So trusting and loyal to a fault. Unlike you, she's never disappointed me. But I really don't think she's capable of evil, do you, Aldric?" Aldric's mind flashed to the image of Lydia plunging a knife into Colin's chest, and his stricken expression made Geoffrey look at him condescendingly. "Oh, yes, there was that bit when you saw her kill Bixby. Not to worry, Aldric, you actually saw Alan. You should see how proud he is that he tricked you into falling for a glamour. Man's been prattling on about it incessantly." Aldric sagged in relief. Despite the circumstances, knowing that his sister hadn't murdered someone in a fury made him feel much better. But then thinking of Lydia made him remember what he had found when reviewing the prophecy, and he began to panic anew. *I must get to Lydia, somehow. Everything depends on it.*

"I can believe that you'd want me dead, Father, but Lydia..."

"Yes, well, I would be thrilled to have my lovely daughter at my side during my rise to power, but I know that's simply not possible. Her purity will aid in my triumph, however. Lydia will be sacrificed to the demon Svarog on her wedding night, thus solidifying our relationship. So you see, you, she, the Slayer, everyone has a role to play." He leaned in closer, sneering at his son. "I must tell you, Aldric, I am really looking forward to your part. It will give me such immense satisfaction to know that you're finally bringing some honor to the family name." Aldric closed his eyes and turned his head.

*Honor! Like bringing demons forth to rule the earth is an honorable thing to do. Bite your tongue, Aldric, you need him to go so that you can work on getting a message to your sister. There'll be plenty of time to shout at the old man later.* Geoffrey reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing Aldric to face him. He opened his eyes, then dropped his gaze. Geoffrey released him in disgust. He stalked from the prison, and the lackey closed the door and locked it behind him. Geoffrey turned to address the man.

"Watch him carefully. Report to me immediately if he does anything...interesting." Aldric closed his eyes and dropped his head. He began to muster his concentration. He had no way of knowing when they would be back to question him further, so he had to act quickly. He couldn't use a spell to get out of this, but astral projection was not a spell, more something done through meditation and focus. He calmed his breathing, focusing on his sister, praying that the wards he knew were placed on his cell were only designed to keep his body from leaving. If not, his spirit might be ripped to shreds if he managed this successfully. He had to succeed, he sister needed him. He would not let Lydia down.

**************************************

"Spike!" Angel stared at the blonde vampire. He had seemed paralyzed ever since Angel had taken the memory crystal from him. He was rigid and had just started to tremble. If Angel didn't know better, he'd think he was having a panic attack. "Tell me what's going on!"

"I...I...you have to trust me!" Angel almost started to laugh, but the fear he saw in Spike's eyes stopped him.

"You're afraid...why?" Spike shook his head unhappily.

"I need to do something here, right? Something I can't explain to you. And you're not gonna let me. I can't believe this, I've come this far and now I'm going to fail. And if I do, she'll die!"

"Die? Buffy? Do what? Spike, you're not making any sense!" Spike's shaking was getting worse, and Angel thought he had never seen him looking this awful, even when he was in the wheelchair.

"Angel! Listen to me, there's no-ARRGH!" Spike suddenly doubled over, slipping on his gameface involuntarily.

**************************************

"Our wedding is crucial to our plans, my sweet, so never fear. I won't be killing you today." Alan was growing tired of chasing his intended about the dead demon's flat. Lydia had almost been caught by Alan several times, and was now backed nearly into a corner. She looked frantically for a way to escape.

"I still don't understand wh-AAAYYY!" Lydia screamed, holding her head and nearly dropping to her knees. She barely felt Alan's hand grab her arm and steady her.

"What's wrong?" she heard him ask as if from a long way off. Her awareness of her surroundings was fading away as she became aware of only two things. The bond between her and the vampire was beginning to break. And it hurt.

**************************************

"Spike! Spike, what's happening!" Angel had grabbed a hold of the other vampire's shoulders, trying to steady him. Spike looked up at him, tears streaming down his face.

"Out of time..." he whispered. "I have to...Angel, please, don't ask, just let me do this. Please!" It was the way that Spike pleaded that caused Angel to change his mind and nod agreement. He had never heard the younger man beg like that for anything, even when Angelus had tormented him. 

Spike reached with badly shaking hands into his pocked again, pulling out a box which he opened, revealing a glowing green circular object. He reached forward to place it on Angel's forward, and the dark vampire instinctively put on his gameface and pulled away.

"What-" Angel began, but Spike shook his head.

"Please," Spike begged again, and Angel slipped back into his human face. He allowed Spike to place the talisman on his forehead. Instantly he felt a pleasant warmth spreading through him, and knew that whatever was happening would not bring him harm. He relaxed, but was unprepared for Spike to grab hold of him in a tight hug. Reflexively he held the man back as he began to recite the supplication.

**************************************

Alan held the knife in one hand and Lydia's arm in the other. She had fallen into some kind of fit, then into some kind of trance. He was inclined to use this opportunity to bring her from the building, but he was too curious and confused about what was happening with her to move right away. He gave her a light shake, and she suddenly began to speak, her voice low but rising with increasing urgency.

"I beseech you, Amagandar..." *hurry hurry hurry*

"...protect this innocent soul..." *the bond Oh God its*

"...from the curse that belongs to another..." *severing, faster, must go faster*

**************************************

Spike's voice began to rise, and his speech became more and more rapid. Angel was confused but hung on to him, closing his eyes. He could tell something monumental was happening.

"...remove the affliction..." *Pet? What's going on?*

"...restore the life line..." *Watcher-Lydia, dammit! Answer me!*

**************************************

Alan's eyes narrowed as he finally realized what was going on.

"You. You've been messing up the prophecy." He let go of her arm and backhanded her across the face. Lydia did not react to the slap, her eyes remained closed, and she continued on, her voice growing louder and more strident.

"I beseech you, Amagandar..." 

"All this time we thought Aldric was doing something..." Alan grabbed her arm again and shook her, hard, but elicited no response. It was as if she was no longer there with him at all.

"...let not this friend be taken..."

". . .and it's been you all along, you little bitch." Alan clutched the knife with whitened knuckles. He had to stop her.

"...this plea I make with sincere heart. . ." 

Alan lifted the knife, preparing to plunge it into Lydia's chest. 

"No! Stop, Travers!!! You can't!" Alan whirled and saw Aldric standing there. The two stared at each other, one in shock, one in horror, not noticing that Lydia had stopped chanting.

**************************************

"By my words, let it be true. . .LYDIA!!!" Spike pitched forward and began thrashing about. They both tumbled to the floor. Angel felt helpless, still holding Spike as the vampire continued to convulse. He still didn't understand what was going on here, but he felt that something must be going horribly wrong, and he had no idea of how he could fix it. Abruptly the fit subsided and Spike was very still. Tentatively Angel released him and gave him a worried look. His eyes were open but unfocused, and Angel had the feeling things had just gotten much worse.

**************************************

"You can't be here...you couldn't have escaped." Aldric merely smiled, and his grin widened as Alan tried a few quick spells designed to send him flying with no effect. Aldric began to laugh as he saw Alan's eyes widen in fear. Neither of them noticed Lydia's body begin to jerk.

**************************************

Spike, for his part, had felt the bond between the Watcher and himself finally break just before he said the last words of the spell, and had impulsively reached for her with his (mind? essence? he wasn't sure) as she slipped from him. Now he found himself adrift in a kind of space that wasn't really space, without his body and without any anchor. He (saw? sensed?) something almost like a shooting star, glowing but quickly fading, pass by him and latched onto it. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about it had seemed familiar. He hoped it would lead him somewhere. Anything was better than this feeling of suspended nonexistence.

**************************************

"You've failed, Travers. Get away from Lydia. You see that you cannot harm me, and I won't let you hurt her." Aldric suddenly noticed Lydia's spasms which subsided suddenly as he looked at her. Noting his distraction, in desperation Alan waved his hand, and a lamp came at Aldric from behind. It passed through his head, causing the image of him to warp slightly, and crashed into the wall. Alan looked nonplussed, then smiled cruelly.

"How will you stop me, Stokes-Martin, when you're not even real? Some kind of projection ...quite clever, really...but no matter. Your sister dies now, and I cannot even begin to tell you the pleasure it gives me to know that you get to watch me do it." He grabbed the motionless Watcher and raised the knife, enjoying the helpless horror on Aldric's face as his hand came down...and whipped his head back around in shock as Lydia's hand grabbed his wrist with unbelievable strength, stopping the downward motion inches from her chest. Her eyes flew open, and Alan screamed. They were yellow. Lydia's face warped into a vampire's visage, and she smiled. And squeezed. Bones in Alan's wrist popped, and he dropped the knife, screaming again. Almost casually she threw him across the room.

"Now why'd you want to go on and do that, mate. Make me have to get all violent with you. It's been a long time since I've been able to hurt a human, and there are so many ways I can make a man hurt. I've got so much to catch up on..." With a fluid motion she picked up the knife and headed towards the man, who was now cradling his wrist, out of his mind with terror.

"Lydia, please don't! You don't know what you're doing!" Aldric cried out in alarm. The vampire that had been his sister glanced at him calmly.

"I think you know I'm not Lydia, mate." She held the knife to Alan's throat, tracing it down his stomach almost gently as her fangs brushed against his neck. She chuckled low in her throat at Alan's terrified whimper. "Name's William the Bloody, but you can call me Spike."

Feedback, please!


	16. Spike and Lydia Lose Something

Author's Note: Warning - Character Death (you may be expecting it already. If not, be warned.) And also, as always, flashbacks are denoted by brackets [ ].

**************************************

Angel was pacing around the lobby, frantic to think of something he could do. He had tried reviving Spike for several minutes, using the tried and true beating-the-hell-out-of-him method, to no avail. Spike was utterly unresponsive, and while Angel couldn't put his finger on it, he knew the other vampire was somehow not there. The only thing he could think that might bring him back made him shudder, but...it was the only thing he could think that might bring him back. He gave Spike one last long look. No change. Sighing resignedly, he morphed into his vampire face...

************************************** 

"Lydia...Spike...where is my sister?" The vampire grinned. 

"She's here, Aldric, she's just letting me deal with this mess. She knows how much I love it." Alan sniveled again as once more fangs brushed against his neck, and the knife edged even lower. Then he screamed as he felt teeth sink into his throat. Aldric watched on in horror as Alan's eyes turned up in his head, then in bewilderment as his possessed sister stood up, her normal face restored, and moved away from the terrified man, laughing hard. "You were right, that was worth it," she said, and Aldric was unsure who was addressing whom.

"Lydia?" he asked uncertainly. Alan also looked up, putting his hand to his neck and then checking for blood. He seemed shocked when he found none. Lydia looked at him with amused contempt.

"Honestly. One would think neither of you had ever seen a glamour before," she responded archly. Aldric relaxed a bit, this was definitely his sister speaking. "Which I find most comical considering the time both of you spend being someone else, particularly me." Alan glared at her, his anger rising now that he was getting over his fright.

"And the vampire? Just another ruse to frighten me?" Lydia's expression changed, her eyes growing hard, and Alan gulped, cradling his injured wrist to his chest.

"Oh, I'm here, you pillock. She was just tellin' me I have to wait to rip out your entrails until she gets some information from you. Like where he," Spike inclined Lydia's head towards Aldric, "might be keeping himself right now. If you don't tell the girl, I get to torture, maim and kill you."

"And if I do?" The smile on Lydia's face was chilling to both men.

"Let's see...I still get to torture and maim you, but probably not kill you. But, hell, if you cooperate, she might stop me. Decide quick, mate, I'm feeling very antsy. Really want to get to the torturing, and the maiming." Alan shook his head violently.

"You don't understand, I can't tell you, they will kill me if I do." The possessed Watcher shrugged, fingering the knife she still held.

"Certainly works for me. I'd rather you didn't spill anything, gives me an excuse to. Spill something. Make you really hurt. Please, don't say anything." She moved towards Alan, knife at the ready, when Aldric stepped forward . The vampire-possessed woman growled at her brother.

"Lydia...Spike...please stop. I'd enjoy the bastard getting his as much as anyone but there isn't time. I came here because there's something you both must know. Please, listen carefully." Alan tried using this distraction to crawl to safety, but putting pressure on his injured wrist made him cry out. Lydia was on him in a second, dragging him to his feet, then holding him up and looking at him as one might a mangy stray cat.

"Ssssh, quiet now. Big brother's talking." She again tossed him across the room, where he landed hard and was silent, momentarily stunned. She turned her attention back to her brother, then suddenly put her hand to her head again and moaned. "God, something's happening...what NOW?" As Aldric watched, railing against his powerlessness, Lydia's eyes lost focus and she slumped forward .

"Lydia!" Aldric cried. A moment later her eyes cleared. She seemed stunned as she stood blinking away tears. She looked at her brother, completely dejected.

"He's gone, Aldric. Spike...is gone. I-I don't know what happened . But the bonding...it's over."

"Oh dear. I can't say I'm unhappy - look out!!" Lydia ducked as several heavy knick-knacks and books from Janice's shelves came flying at her. She held up a hand and whispered a spell to deflect the missiles, and saw Alan approaching her, his confidence returning now that the vampire was gone.

"And here we are again, my dear. We can get back to the business we were concluding before we were so rudely interrupted. I think it's time we ended this, don't you?"

************************************** 

Finding himself inside Lydia was one of the more interesting experiences Spike had ever had, which considering the fact that he had been around for more than a hundred years was really saying something. It had been strange, of course, but he had instantly recognized the now familiar feel of her mind, having shared it through the bond for days. Being inside her body was quite different than having her image inside his head. He instantly knew everything there was to know about her, from the way she liked her toast to her favorite sweater to her first kiss to her infatuation for him. He knew that she had to have the same knowledge about him, all his likes and dislikes and such, as well as all his memories of violence past. There was an awkward moment when she instinctively recoiled and tried to push him out. Then she seemed to accept and even welcome his presence, and as one they realized that they had the strength of a vampire, but were still human. Neither of them really understood why that was, but they knew it to be true. Bit by bit their identities were beginning to merge. He could hardly remember whose idea it was to create the vampire illusion. They were still mostly separate, but it was already hard to tell where he started and she ended, and Lydia kept telling him that she was certain eventually their minds would become one mind and he would be part of her forever. Spike didn't like the sound of that, but then he realized that in this form he could hurt Alan Travers. 

Spike eagerly anticipated torturing the loathsome man. After having gone so long without being able to inflict pain on a human without tormenting himself , he would finally get a chance to unleash some of that frustration without repercussions. The prospect of causing human bloodshed made him almost giddy. And what was more, the man was bad news, had tried to kill Lydia, and therefore even Buffy would have to agree the man deserved to feel some pain. It was going to be brilliant. 

Then Lydia's brother started yammering about something. Throwing Alan across the room was again was good, but only as a prelude to the brutality to come. The man was too petrified to use any of his magickal talents, and Spike was going to make him pay for that mistake. Lydia was telling him to wait, they needed to listen to Aldric. Then all at once he felt a *tugging* sensation. Confusion, alarm and a dismay that he was pretty sure was actually coming from Lydia swept through him. He felt himself fall back into the void he had so recently escaped...then he no longer felt anything at all.

************************************** 

Geoffrey strode towards the cage that held his son. He could not believe how well everything was coming together, but knew that his good fortune just proved that he had been right all along. They would not fail, because their success was fated to be. It was just the way the world worked. And with that understanding, he wanted to put in some more time gloating to Aldric, his hated son.

Looking into the cage, he saw that Aldric's eyes were closed and his head bowed. A tray with some crackers and a cup of water sat by his feet, and rats had begun gnawing on the unexpected treat. The underling who had been left to watch his son was keeping a closer eye on these new visitors, Geoffrey noted. He fixed the man with a stare and the lackey immediately came to his side. Geoffrey pointed at Aldric.

"How long has he been like that?"

"Since you left, sir. I think he's asleep. Or he might be praying, I heard him mumble something for a bit, but I couldn't make it out. I went to give him some food, but didn't want to wake him." Geoffrey glared at this follower, who now cursed his own soft-heartedness. He should have gone ahead and forced the young man awake, but he had looked so peaceful. Now, as the two men watched, one of the rats moved to Aldric's foot and began gnawing on his pants leg. Aldric did not even twitch. Geoffrey's eyes narrowed.

"Let me in there." The other man fumbled with the keys in his rush to get the door open. Geoffrey strode in and went straight to his son's body, kicking aside the couple of rodents who failed to scatter. He grabbed Aldric's chin roughly and pried one of his eyes open, looking at him intently. The underling jumped as Geoffrey suddenly roared in frustration.

"Dammit, he's up to something. Bring the sorcerers, now!" The minion scurried off, knowing his life was likely forfeit if he didn't act with all haste. Geoffrey looked at his son bitterly. "I don't know what you think you're doing, boy, but we both know it's already too late."

************************************** 

Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. He had been concerned when Buffy had failed to report in after patrol, and even more alarmed when Anya had failed to report for work as scheduled. The girl was many things, but irresponsible was definitely not one of them. She always let Giles know if something was keeping her from getting to work on time. Because the something keeping her was nearly always Xander, Giles often wished she was a bit less vigilant and a lot less forthcoming with her excuses. Buffy might neglect checking in, but Anya would never fail to call. His relief had been immense when the three young people came walking in the door, seemingly unharmed. That sense of worry lifted had, over the course of mere hours, been transformed into one of the largest headaches he had experienced in years, as the three tried to explain what had happened and then looked to him for some kind of explanation. As they were looking at him now. Giles rubbed his eyes again, then returned his glasses to their rightful place.

"Yes, well, it is very strange, isn't it? There could be any number of explanations for these occurrences." Buffy gave him a frustrated glare.

"Well, could we pick a number, like say, five, or something? Like the top five explanations for how most of my friends have had little spacey experiences? Not to mention how the three of us wound up performing 'Chrissy, Jack and Janet have a wacky misunderstanding' this morning."

"It's not even clear that the two are related, Buffy. Honestly, what happened to you might have a perfectly natural explanation." The others all stared at him, then Xander nodded in mock agreement.

"Giles is right, of course. Natural explanations abound in Sunnydale, like street gangs on PCP and people constantly falling on barbecue forks." Giles glared at him. The headache was definitely getting worse. He turned back to Buffy.

"I'll continue to consult my books, of course, but for right now I think there are more pressing matters, don't you?"

"You mean Glory. How do we know she's not involved in this? Maybe she's going to use some kind of attack like this to take Dawn. Giles, I have to know." Giles shook his head.

"I promise you, Buffy, none of the research the Watchers' Council have on Glorificus indicate she would do anything this...subtle. I think that if something demonic or in any way paranormal is indeed going on here, Glory is highly unlikely to have been involved. And I think it's also possible that the cause of these incidents has no malevolent intent whatsoever." Buffy stared at him blankly.

"Huh? Ma-who-volent whatsis?" Anya stood to help a customer who had just arrived, calling back over her shoulder to Buffy as she walked away.

"I think he's right, I mean, personally, I feel great! Evil magicks usually leave a bad aftertaste." Buffy looked at Xander, who shrugged and nodded.

"Anya's got a point. I feel a bit wigged by it all, but not really bad about it." He squirmed a bit after he said that, and Buffy wondered if Xander might be keeping something to himself. She shrugged and looked to Giles, who was rubbing his forehead again.

"So, we're going with unknown forces of wiggy but not necessarily evil origin?" Giles looked at her and sighed.

"I'll continue to consult my books, of course, but I think we needn't be unduly upset about this business."

"Not when there's so much other business needing our valuable being upset time," Xander chimed in after him in agreement. Buffy took a deep breath, letting it out in a puff. She slapped her thighs and rose.

"Okay then, I'm off to catch a shower and to play 'Guilt Tripping: The Home Game' with Mom. I'm hoping I'll be able to distract her by asking her to tell me about Brian again, she gets all flustery and girly. I'll check in later."

************************************** 

Angel continued to watch Spike carefully, though his eyes kept straying back to his own wrist. *One good thing about being a vampire, you heal fast.* He had heard about ancient vampires having certain rituals that used their own blood to call back those of their line from long distances. He didn't know any of the actual rituals, so he had simply bit into his own wrist and squeezed blood into Spike's mouth while calling his name. Angel had thought that his grandchilde's body had trembled slightly as his eyes closed, but that was hours ago and the blonde vampire was still unresponsive. He was beginning to think he'd imagined it when Spike suddenly turned his head and groaned. Angel hurried to his side.

"Spike, can you hear me?" Spike's eyes remained shut, but he turned his head towards Angel.

"Yes, I can bloody well hear you. And if I can, I guess I'm back to being me." There was both relief and vague disappointment in his tone, and to Angel he made no sense. Spike's eyes fluttered forward and he simply looked at Angel for a moment, then he sat bolt upright so quickly Angel almost went into his gameface.

"Did it work?"

"Did what work?"

"The ritual, did it bloody work?" Angel gave him a little proud smile.

"Well, it wasn't a ritual, per se, but I did manage to bring you back to -"

"No, no, no, you stupid - not me, the ritual! Something went all wonky towards the end, and I'm not sure..." He stared at Angel's forehead intently. "The little green whatnot, did it vanish?" Angel felt his forehead, remembering the talisman for the first time since Spike had collapsed.

"I don't know...I guess...is it gone now?" When Spike huffed in exasperation, Angel retorted sarcastically, "Well, let's see, let me find a mirror...oh, wait..." Spike merely glared at him, still intent on figuring out if he had completed his mission successfully.

"Did you smell anything?"

"Spike, what is this? Did I smell anything? Like what?"

"I don't know, like someone's in the kitchen with bloody Dinah kind of smells. Cooking, like Buffy's little Thanksgiving party you crashed." Angel rolled his eyes then cocked his head, trying to remember.

"Honestly, Spike, you were having a seizure. I didn't know what was going on, in fact I still don't. I wasn't paying much attention to anything else at the time. I don't remember a smell, but there might have been." Spike kept staring at him, a strange expression on his face. "What? What does it matter if there was a smell? When are you going to tell me what is going on?"

"I hope it doesn't matter at all," Spike answered softly, his thoughts drifting to a blonde Slayer. *Please let it have worked. For Buffy's sake.* He looked back at Angel, who was still giving him an annoyed look, and felt an unexpected rush of fondness for him. *And for his.* Then Spike shook his head ruefully. *God, I am such a sap.*

**************************************

Lydia clutched the knife, eyeing Alan warily as he moved towards her. Alan chuckled at her patronizingly.

"Come, come, dearest. We both know that with the vampire gone you've not the stomach for violence. You aren't going to use that knife." He charged for her, reaching for the knife, and Lydia surprised him by ducking under his charge and tripping him. Within seconds she was straddling him, her knife held against his throat. She was trembling, her eyes rimmed with tears, but still holding a glint of the hardness that had been there when Spike had been with her.

"You know, my brother tried to warn me. There's a funny thing about bonding spells. Personalities tend to bleed into each other, and they don't always fully separate." Alan tried to buck her off, but she held on, squeezing her thighs tighter around his waist. She held the knife closer, and a small trickle of blood began to work its way down the side of his throat. "The dark tends to get lighter, the good gets more..."

"Bad..." Alan whispered with a kind of reverence. "Lydia, I've never...you've never been this way before. This darkness in you...it's intoxicating...you must join us. Join me, together we'll bring down the light and make the night go on forever." Lydia shuddered.

"I'm not like you, Alan."

"But you are, don't you see? The vampire, he made you this way. Of course, we'll no longer be able to sacrifice you to Svarog, but I'll find another substitute...then you and I can be together for all eternity."

"I see. How about this for an alternative plan...you tell me where I can find Aldric, and I let you live. You don't tell me, and I kill you here and now. Unlike Spike, I don't feel the need to torture and maim, so I'll just skip to the finish." Alan smiled a triumphant smile.

"You should kill me, you need to embrace your darkness. It's only a matter of time before-"

"I don't care to hear anymore about my darkness!" Lydia bit off, strained. Aldric was still watching, his body taut with tension. He so desperately wanted to intervene and he was still helpless to do so. He could only watch the scene play out.

"Go ahead. Kill me. I'll never betray your father and the Concillium Nocens." Alan began to giggle, enjoying the tormented look on her face. "You can't save your brother, he's as good as dead. But he's going to die in horrid pain, begging and pleading for his...oh...." Alan's eyes widened, and he gurgled slightly as his hands reached for the hilt of the knife now impaled in his chest. His hands brushed at it ineffectually, then were still. His dead eyes remained open, staring at Lydia with an almost loving look of awe. Still shaking, Lydia stood and turned back to her brother, blood on her hands. She held them out before her.

"I...I...oh God, Aldric, what have I done?" Lydia began to whimper. Aldric opened his mouth to speak and his image suddenly wavered and came back into focus.

"Lydia, they're bringing me back!" Lydia watched in horror as the image began to fade in and out. Her brother's voice also faded in and out, sounding like it was coming from an AM radio hitting bursts of static. He began screaming to try to compensate.

"Aldric, quick, where are you? Tell me something, anything!"

"Don't try...find me...need to go...Sunnydale...find...Summers...was wrong..."

"What are you saying? Aldric, I don't understand."

"I made a...take in...phecy, wrong...friend not Angel...Slayer...danger..." As Lydia watched in horror, her brother's image winked out completely on one final word, a word that brought her to her knees defeated, almost broken. She had failed to save her brother. She had failed to save a friend. She might have failed to save the Slayer, and the Dark Council might win after all. The last word Aldric had cried repeated in her head over and over as she sobbed...

*...mother...*

**************************************

Buffy entered her house, calling out for her mother. She was a bit surprised that Joyce didn't come running up right away, fussing and checking her for unmentioned gaping wounds, but the house was quiet. She was distracted by a bouquet of flowers by the door, and took a moment to read the card. Her mother may have found a good guy after all, and the thought made her feel happy and sad at the same time. *Ah, flowers mean good mood. Mention them right away...and offer to do something! That should distract her from the guilting for a minute.*

"Hey, flower-gettin' lady! You want me to pick up Dawn at school? Mom?" Buffy was confused, her mother should have been all over her by now. She turned towards the living room...

*...mother...*

**************************************

Spike took the mug of heated blood that Angel offered and sipped it. They had once more lapsed into an awkward silence. There was too much water and blood under this particular bridge, and too many questions that Spike couldn't really answer. Although now he was finding he had a few of his own, and was wondering what Angel might do to him if he asked...

"How do you do it, mate?" Angel looked up from his own mug, puzzled.

"I thought that you were pretty much doing the same thing," he responded, pointing to his mug. Spike shook his head.

"No, I mean, how do you stand being with them? The humans?" Spike moved about the room, too agitated to stand still. He turned back and looked at Angel frequently as he spoke. "I mean, one day they're food, the next, wham, you've got a soul, and bam, I've got a soddin chip, and now they're...what? Our friends? We're not supposed to have feelings for them..." Angel grinned as he came to a realization.

"But you do, don't you? It's not just Buffy. You actually like them. The Scoobies. Buffy's friends." Spike shrugged, suddenly embarrassed.

"Some of them I want to kill less than others, that's all." Angel kept grinning at him, and he scowled back. "What?"

"Nothing. Just a bit surprising." Spike sighed, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it," he muttered under his breath. To Angel he merely said. "Doesn't really matter how I think of them, they want no part of me. The Slayer wants me gone, too, she's made that perfectly clear."

"Why do you stay?" Angel asked curiously.

"Why did you go?" The blonde bit back. Angel stared into his mug thoughtfully as he responded to the question.

"Leaving Buffy...was the hardest thing I've ever done. But she needed me to do it, and I had to be strong for her." Angel looked up as Spike snorted, then saw the self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Staying there, not being able to be with her, that's the hardest thing I'VE ever done. But she needs me. I know she does, even if she doesn't. They all need me, and I'm not going to go." Angel regarded him solemnly.

"Sometimes, you just have to hang in there. Trust that, no matter what you've done in the past, there's still going to be a chance that they'll forgive you." Spike gave him a strange look. He had the feeling Angel was now talking about something else. Before he could ask, they both heard voices and footsteps coming towards the hotel. Angel suddenly looked panicked. 

"That's the guys and Cordy, I totally lost track of the time...you've got to go!" Angel snatched the mug out of Spike's hand and practically dragged him out of the room. "There's an entrance to the sewers here, it'll get you out safe without any risk of bursting into flames." He looked at Spike for a second, then put out his hand. Spike took it for an awkward shake, both trying to shake memories of their embrace from earlier.

"Take care of yourself, mate," Spike offered gruffly. Angel nodded.

"It was good to see you, Spike," Angel returned, surprisingly sincere. Then he hurried back to greet his friends. Spike knew there was no real reason for him to stay, but he was curious about what was going on. Angel had seemed so nervous, he knew something was up. He stayed out of sight but listened in.

"Cordy, let me get that for you..." he heard Angel call.

"I've got it, thanks, help Wes. He was the one who was shot, after all." Cordy's voice was so icy Spike almost shivered. 

*I'd say Angelus has gotten himself into a bit of mess here...this could be fun.* Spike grinned to himself as he kept listening. 

"Wes, let me..." Angel was interrupted by a voice Spike didn't recognize.

"I've got that, Wes."

"Thank you, Gunn." 

Spike smirked. *They're all giving you the cold shoulder, mate. What did you do, I wonder?*

"Well, then, I'll just...just..." Spike couldn't remember the last time he had heard Angel sound so lost. Mercifully the telephone rang at that moment, and he heard Angel jump on the sound in relief. "I'll just get the phone!" he called almost happily. Spike heard him pick up the phone a second later.

"Angel Investigations, we...Giles?" 

Spike froze at the Watcher's name, his heart in his throat. He heard Angel gasp and take an unnecessary breath and one word pulsed in Spike's brain. *Buffy...*

"Oh, God...how's Buffy?...Dawn?...no, I wouldn't think so. When should I...I see...tell her I said...tell her I'll be there, okay? Thanks, Giles. Thank you for calling." The room had gotten quiet while Angel was on the phone, and now Cordy spoke.

"Angel, did something happen to Buffy?" There was a long silence, so long that Spike nearly started to scream, then Angel finally responded.

"It's Joyce. She's dead." Four words struck at Spike's heart, and he scrambled down to the sewer and began to run. He stumbled unseeing down the sewer tunnel, trying to outrun his own failure. Sudden memories flashed through him, each one heralding his colossal mistake. The mistake that would likely kill the woman he loved...

__

[His own voice echoed in his ears as he stared at the couple, so in denial.

"You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, you'll  
shag, you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Real love isn't brains, children, it's blood, it's blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

**************************************

Spike stood beneath the tree, watching Joyce tell him he needed to go away. Her voice was full of pain as she tried to make him understand.

"Spike, when Buffy ran away, I thought I'd lost her. When she started college, she was still around, but it was like I lost her again for a while. Now she's here, and the crisis with me has past and we've gotten so close again. I won't do anything to risk my relationship with my daughter..."

**************************************

"It's Joyce. She's dead."]

Spike's legs suddenly gave out, sending him sprawling across the sewer floor. He howled in fury and sorrow as the words continued to echo in his brain.

__

["You'll never be friends...we've gotten so close...It's Joyce. She's dead."]

"Why?" Spike screamed, drawing his legs to his chest to make himself small. He didn't know who he was asking. No one actually answered. But he continued to repeat the question, rocking himself as tears rolled down his face.

"Why?"

**************************************

Aldric's eyes opened, and he stared into his father's smug countenance. At that moment he wanted nothing better than to wipe the smirk off of his face. He leaned forward and spit, hitting his father's cheek. Geoffrey wiped the spittle from his face, no longer smiling, but his eyes dancing with excitement.

"Did you have a nice trip, son? See anything interesting? Or should I say anyone?"

"Your lap dog, Alan Travers. Afraid he won't be able to join in your new order anymore, Father, he's grown rather dead." Geoffrey's eyes widened in shock and dismay, then became manically animated once more.

"Dead? A pity. But in truth, his role has already played out. I was going to let him live until Lydia's sacrifice, of course, but now we'll have to come up with another plan. A minor inconvenience, I assure you. I assume you saw your sister on your travels?" Aldric looked away, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "It doesn't really matter, son. We'll collect her soon enough. Now that her fiance is dead, we can't have her running to the Council with what I am certain you told her about our plans, can we?"

"She's smarter and tougher than you think, Father. She'll track down this place." Geoffrey shrugged.

"No matter. We'll be leaving shortly. We need to go collect our great offering to the demons, then heading to the sight of the convergence." Aldric decided to make one last desperate attempt to reason with this father.

"Father, how do you know that these demons are going to honor their word with you, particularly when you fail to honor your word with anyone else? They'll kill you as soon as they no longer need your services." Geoffrey shook his head gleefully.

"No, my son. They won't, because only we will be able to control the instrument of their success. The bringer of destruction. Shiva in human form."

"I don't understand, Father." Geoffrey motioned for a minion to come forward, he was carrying a syringe which he plunged into Aldric's arm. Within seconds he could feel himself beginning to black out. Satisfied, Geoffrey walked away from his son, tossing his answer almost casually over his shoulder. They were the last words Aldric heard as he lost consciousness.

"I mean Sharonda Martin. The next Chosen One, whom Alan has taught well. She has chosen to join our cause. One girl, in all the world...that can end it all."


	17. Epilogue

Quentin Travers finished reading the report and looked at the man who had brought it to him gravely.

"You're certain it was my nephew." Philip nodded, clearly uncomfortable.

"The fire destroyed nearly everything, but we were able to identify his remains through dental records. Also, the woman he was with, she was not fully human. She was part Bracken demon, we've made the usual arrangements there."

"The police think it was a lover's quarrel, which lead to murder/suicide. That he set the fire himself." Quentin set the papers aside. Philip thought he had never seen the man look so old.

"Yes, sir. We cannot be certain there was not another party involved, but there is no evidence to support another theory. We'll keep searching, of course."

"Of course. What is the news on the Stokes-Martins?" he asked, changing the subject to one almost less pleasant. Philip frowned.

"No sign of any of them. They seem to have vanished without a trace. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like to find them. All of them. I have a feeling that whatever is going on with that family, my nephew was involved in it somehow, and it just may have gotten him killed. Whoever is responsible for my nephew's death will pay for it, Philip, I promise you that."

"Of course, sir. What of the Slayer?" Quentin leaned forward.

"Our sources say that only one person close to the Slayer died. The Santiago Codex had indicated that either all seven would die, or all seven would live."

"Prophecies are tricky things, they often leave out important information. The future is so fluid. One new wrinkle and everything changes." Quentin blinked at him, then shrugged.

"Frankly, I don't know what to make of it, and without that book, I don't know much we can do. Watch the Slayer, see how she behaves. If she seems unable to perform her duties, we may have to have another Slayer called."

"Kill Buffy Summers."

"I believe that Glorificus will do that for us. But if we must."

**************************************

Angel had searched the sewers for Spike for hours after the phone call from Giles. He finally found him sitting in a corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, an inconsolable expression on his face. He stood before him.

"You know."

"I know. I heard you." Spike looked up at Angel, and the souled vampire was startled by the amount of pain in the other man's eyes. "I could have saved her. I failed her, and I failed Buffy...I'm so unbelievably stupid, you should stake me now."

"Spike, I don't know what you're talking about. Giles said that Joyce died of an aneurysm, it wasn't something you or Buffy or anyone else could have saved her from. Human beings...they're mortal. These kinds of things happen." Spike just shook his head. There was no way for him to explain what he was feeling, and he didn't even want to try. He felt as adrift now as he had when in that formless sea, unsure what his next move should be. So, of course, Angel asked, "What are you going to do now?" Having to answer the question, Spike searched his heart.

"Go back. To Sunnydale. Try to see what I can do to make this right. I have to fix it."

"How?" Spike shook his head again, then allowed Angel to help him to his feet. He stalked off back towards the hotel, Angel following closely behind.

"Don't know, but I have to try. I won't let the Summers women down, any of them."

Just past sunset, a car with blacked out windows rolled down the highway, stereo blaring. Spike tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He was down, but he was not yet out. He was going to help Buffy. She was not going to die. He had messed up once, but he wouldn't again.

And he was going to help his friends.

**************************************

Teddy Arietta loved his job in Customs. He got to choose pretty much at random which passengers he would bring to his station for a full luggage search. And if more beautiful foreign women ended up at his table than, say, old balding men, well, he was good at his job and his boss tended to look the other way. He was a good looking man, with a devilish smile, and more often than not got a phone number along with a passport when he asked. Life was definitely good for Teddy.

Glancing at the latest round of passengers, he saw just the kind of girl he was most attracted to. Tall, long blonde hair in a loose ponytail, nice body shown off in a tight pair of black jeans and a gray scoop neck t-shirt under a black leather jacket with matching boots. She only had one small bag with her, which was unusual. Usually passengers from Heathrow had lots of luggage with them. He waved her over to his station, and she raised her eyebrows as she came over, putting her bag on his counter. He tried to act professional as he ogled her discretely.

"Passport please, miss." She handed over her British passport, giving him a little smile as she did. *I do love the English girls. This one reminds me of that chick from the Avengers.* He pretended to look over her passport seriously. "How long will you be in New York, Mrs..?"

"Miss Williams. Janice Williams." Lydia smiled at him coquettishly, and he returned the smile, showing off his perfect teeth. "And I'm not actually sure. My plans are still not quite firmed up." Teddy gave her a smoldering look from his chocolate brown eyes, one that usually made the girl's feel weak.

"What brings you here? Business or pleasure?" he purred. Lydia leaned forward, giving him an easier sightline to her cleavage.

"It's family business, actually. But I expect some of it will be a pleasure." Teddy's face fell a bit. Family reunions usually meant lots of family, not exactly what he had in mind. He admired her figure once again. Still, maybe if they could leave right now...

"They're picking you up at the airport, right?" Teddy decided that if she didn't have a ride, he would get someone to finish his shift. This one would be worth losing the overtime. The girl shook her head, taking back the passport he had barely glanced at.

"No, it's a bit of a surprise. They don't quite know I'm coming."

"Really? They're gonna be pretty knocked out, huh?" Lydia gave him a funny smile.

"Some of them, yes." 

This was the part that Teddy was best at. He would charmingly offer to take her to her hotel, or parents' house, or wherever she was heading, and along the way they would accidentally wind up in his bed. He opened her mouth, but... there was something about her eyes. Something about that smile, something hard, almost predatory. Teddy Arietta realized at this moment that he was afraid of her. He swallowed hard and passed her bag back to her.

And then the moment had passed, and she seemed beautiful, alluring, and totally harmless again. But she was walking away. Teddy enjoyed the view from behind, strangely feeling no regret for letting this one escape his bed. *Beautiful girl, though,* he thought to himself as he lost sight of her in the terminal. He turned and began scouring the new arrivals for another possibility.

*And she had a killer smile.* 

THE END

************************************

Author's Notes: First of all, thank you for reading my story. You made it to the end, give yourself a hearty pat on the back. Second, as you've likely guessed by now, there is a sequel to this story planned, the title of which will be "Who Your Friends Are" and which will continue the story...please keep an eye out for it. Third of all, whether you liked the story or you hated it, please let me know. I'm still a very new author and need your help to make my stories better! I also want to take this moment to make a little dedication. This is a story about when friendship is possible, and also what friendship can be. I'm dedicating it to my best friend, Terry, and to all my friends who are constantly showing me what the possibility of friendship is.


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